


Tempered Will

by Rydain



Category: Original Work, Three Kingdoms History & Adaptations - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, China, Coming of Age, Drama, Gen, Historical, Wuxia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rydain/pseuds/Rydain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his restless and unruly youth, Cao Ren struggled with his uncertain future. He raised an army and forged one for himself. A coming of age tale about the backbone of Cao Wei - one of the greatest commanders of the Three Kingdoms era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble and Tedium

**Author's Note:**

> Cao Ren and his fellow clansmen are historical figures. All other characters are fictional. Sources include the Scholars of Shen Zhou, China History Forum, Rafe de Crespigny's work, and English translations of Sanguozhi biographies and classical Chinese texts. Special thanks goes out to friends who helped me brainstorm about ad hoc militias and soldiers' mindsets in general.
> 
> Originally finished July 2011. Rewritten December 2011.

_Cao Ren crept through the wilds of Pei in pursuit of the quarry awaiting him. A cool breeze touched his face, swishing through the towering pines and the shrubbery that served as his cover. Distant mountains rose craggy and mist-shrouded against the pewter sky. Rain had fallen the night before, and the earth smelled fresh and green and new._

_A rustle shook the scrub grown thick at clearing's edge. Ren notched an arrow and raised his bow, well ahead of the pheasant ambling out to peck for stray seed. His pull was taut, his aim true -_

\- and a scrubbing brush sailed out of the clouds and thumped him square in the chest. The desolate splendor of wilderness became an austere hall in the Confucian academy where Ren had been cooped up all morning. Rather than a bow, he held a brush with a penchant for blotting. His quiver was a stack of bamboo sheets marked with utilitarian calligraphy. And the pheasant - Master Pan, his thin and pointed face even more pinched than usual.

"So what were we dreaming of today? Troublemaking? Lollygagging? A lovely young lady, perhaps?"

"The field, master."

"How is it that you have such patience for the hunt and so little for the classroom?"

"When game appears, I shoot it. Doing the same to master would be unthinkable."

Giggles escaped from students around the room, who swallowed their amusement before Master Pan turned his hawk eye upon them.

"Order! How unsurprising that your mouth is flighty as your mind. Remind us all of a better example."

Ren straightened up, brushing the dust mark from his robes. "_Gen_ is signified by two mountains standing together. It means to stay still when called for and go forward when necessary. Take consideration before moving. Keep thoughts and words in order." Ren failed to add a remark about his deficiency at the last part. No sense in flouting wisdom with a wisecrack.

"How does the Book of Changes instruct the superior man to achieve this?"

"In terms of control over his body." Ren took a breath. "The first six divided shows him keeping his calves - his toes at rest. He cannot help him who he follows."

The line made sense - people used their feet to walk, after all - but it seemed off. Master Pan shook his head, confirming that Ren had misspoken.

"The first six divided shows him keeping his toes at rest."

Ren's face turned red as his clothing. Copied countless times during detention, the wisdom of _gen_ had once been a freshly inked text within his mind. The phrases now lay scattered in a mess of unbound slats that he scrambled to put back in order.

Ren flicked his eyes left where his twin brother knelt with the unmoving poise of the lion statues guarding their family estate. Perhaps Chun, who could retell the entire Book of Changes backwards while standing on his head, would take pity and prompt him.

Perhaps not. Chun kept his stony silence, leaving Ren to flail as Master Pan eyed him.

The teacher waved a dismissive hand. "It is irrelevant. Even if you did know the text, you certainly have not learned it. Stay after class."

With that, Master Pan returned to his dry and droning monologue. Ren put brush to bamboo as if his strokes were fishnets to capture the words, reins to keep his attention from drifting back out the open window.

* * *

_The first six divided shows him keeping his toes at rest. There will be no error.  
The second six divided shows him keeping his calves at rest. He cannot help him who he follows.  
The third nine undivided shows him keeping his loins at rest. The heart glows with suppressed passion.  
The fourth six divided shows him keeping his trunk at rest. There will be no error.  
The fifth six divided shows him keeping his jawbones at rest. His words are all orderly. There will be no call to repent.  
The sixth nine undivided shows him maintaining his devoted restfulness. There will be good fortune._

Character after character, line after line, stroke after tedious brush stroke. Master Pan wandered by now and then to glance at the growing stack of copies beside Cao Ren’s desk, offering no feedback apart from an occasional sniff of satisfaction.

When the teacher left momentarily, Ren set his pen down for a break. He unfolded his legs and stretched his hands as the terse wisdom of ancient philosophers marched in imagined columns across his bleary eyes. A small voice reminded him that success at school came down to this brute force, that he could copy at home instead of being trapped here as the clouds broke and afternoon sun beamed through the open windows. But forests and fellows were out there and waiting for him, whereas his academic toil brought minimal results. Chun soaked up verses as a parched plant absorbed water. Ren had a head full of rocks upon which knowledge had to be engraved - stroke after tedious brush stroke.

A sharp tug on the topknot reminded Ren that Master Pan was one step ahead as usual. "Dawdling merely delays the inevitable."

"Yes, Master." Ren's first order to copy texts had become a futile attempt to outlast the teacher's patience. He had sat cross-armed at the low desk with a fresh sheet of bamboo in front of him and the ink left unprepared nearby. Master Pan had waited without comment, taking no action other than fetching an oil lamp for each of them at sundown. Only then had Ren picked up his brush. After all was said and done, he had arrived home well past his usual sleeping hour to a dark house and a box of leftover barley and vegetables congealed into an unappetizing brick.

"As does distraction." Master Pan inspected the pile of copies with an impressed harrumph. "Yet that did not get the better of you just now. It appears that some inkling of _gen_ sank into your skull."

Naturally the teacher's rare compliment was wrapped in condescension.

"Continue this study on your own time if you are up to the responsibility. And if you are not?" Master Pan brandished the scrubbing brush. "The walkways around here could use a thorough cleaning."

Ren hid a smile. Scrubbing was no more hand-numbing than writing. It gave him some fresh air among the greenery of the courtyards. None of it had to be repeated word for word later on.

The teacher's eyes seared into Ren like embers. "Every last one of them."

His relief faded. Brick paths sprawled throughout the academy grounds, connecting pavilions and winding among intricate gardens. Washing every _chi_ thereof would have Ren eating his evening meal cold for most of next month. By the time he finished, the walkways he had first cleaned would be dirty again, and still his responsibility.

"You may leave now. I trust you will consider your choices."

"Yes, master."

Ren bowed, collected his belongings, and hurried out of the classroom. He hit the road running with an unsaid prayer of making it back for dinner.

* * *

The lions at the front gate bore sole witness to Cao Ren's mad dash home. Ren veered right and cut through a deserted garden, darting across rock formations sunk into the earth when the estate was built. A rarely traveled path behind the east wing led him to an even less used door blended into the building's outer wall. Ren sneaked inside and down the hall to his chambers, where the clock’s water level floated a sliver beneath dinner hour.

Perhaps Heaven smiled upon him after all.

Ren shed his sweaty clothing into the laundry basket. He wiped off, changed, and smoothed the flyaway hair into his topknot. A survey of results had the broad face in the mirror grinning back at him. By all appearances, Ren had gone straight home at the usual time. If brother kept matters to himself, no one would be the wiser.

There was no chance to talk Chun into staying quiet. Chimes rang throughout the house, summoning Ren to the evening meal.

* * *

Dinner was served in Mother’s apartments as usual. She reserved the cavernous dining hall for guests, considering it to be too formal for their small family.

As did Cao Ren. Amid the imposing polish of the dining room, he seemed to be slouching or shoveling food or about to drop his chopsticks in some messy spectacle. Mother’s chambers were serene and friendly. The three of them sat around a square table lacquered with exotic birds soaring among swirls of cloud. Sheer silk window panels caught the sunlight, rich with elegant brushwork of bamboo and flowers.

Maidservants brought in vegetable soup, steamed fish over millet, and jars of pickled sides. Once the food had been distributed, the tea poured, and the standard pleasantries exchanged, Mother asked about the day's classwork. She alternated her address each evening, giving both brothers their fair chance to speak first. Luckily it happened to be Ren's turn.

“We learned about the order that rites are supposed to follow. The earth supports all sorts of plants and animals because Heaven meant for it to be productive. We base our rules on nature so they’ll do the same for the people. Our ceremonies change with the seasons, as does the government. We maintain dams and ditches just before the rainy season. We plan out the crops in the winter so there’s time to prepare for planting. And so on, as Master explained.”

Chun smirked. "You forgot to mention your private tutoring."

Ren clenched his chopsticks, stabbing his brother with a glare instead. Mother's gaze fell on him like weight.

"Please elaborate."

Flushing under that patient stare, Ren dropped his eyes to dinner. "I had to stay late to copy the wisdom of _gen_."

"Again?"

Ren poked at a slice of fish, which picked the perfect time to elude his attempts at grabbing it.

"What would your father say?"

The question was a punch in the gut. Cao Chi had served the Empire with distinction, both as a palace attendant and a highly ranked leader of cavalry. As the elder twin, Ren had once taken Chi’s titles for granted. He had since realized with dismay that Chun - savant, scholar, snitch - was fast earning the birthright instead.

A small and bitter part of him wanted to point its finger down the hall, to demand that Mother go ask him herself. To dig its claws into a woman who had mourned three years and still visited the family shrine with tears in her stoic eyes. Who stood by her husband's tablet with bowed head and a brazier of incense, offering ashes to the earth and sacred scent to the heavens above. Who regarded Ren with honest concern and deserved better than a cheap retort.

"When I fell from the horse, he would pick me up and tell me to try again." Ren suppressed the quaver rising into his words. "He would say the same about school. I might fall, but I'm not about to quit."

"Will you have that choice if you can’t stay on at all?"

“I am staying on! I told you what we learned today. I can tell you what we learned the month before. When's the last time I had no answer when you asked about my classwork?”

"A while ago, but there’s more to it than that. Education is about self-improvement, not simple familiarity with the classics. Memorize the wisdom, yes, but apply it toward your own thoughts and behavior."

Chun drew himself up primly until Mother shot him a look. “That goes for you as well. Practice being an example instead of preaching.

“As to you.” Mother turned to Ren. “Come straight home each day, and stay there until I receive word of improvement. Your time will be spent with your books. No riding. No shooting. No further distractions.”

Ren's stomach sank into the floor. "Yes, Mother."

Dinner had lost its flavor, and a few shakes of soy sauce and spice failed to improve it. Ren slogged through his meal with mechanical tedium as his musty texts trudged before him into the interminable future.

* * *

_By the shores of that lagoon,  
Where the water-lily lies,  
Where the tall valerians rise  
Slender as the crescent moon,  
Goes her grace, ah, her grace,  
Sleep brings me no relief:  
My heart is full of grief._

_By the shores of that lagoon,  
Where the drowsy lotus lies,  
Where the tall valerians rise  
Brighter than the orbèd moon,  
Shines her grace, ah, her grace,  
I turn and turn all night,  
And dawn brings no respite._

Cao Chun relaxed on his bed, a pile of pillows at his back and a tome of odes in hand. The verses took wing in the night air wafting through his window, spiriting him away beneath an indigo sky. Flowers bloomed wild and fragrant among tall grass at the water's edge. The lady herself, an ethereal vision in robes of rich silk, knelt by the lake as if to touch the mirrored moon.

A kick to the mattress jumbled the moon's reflection and sent the landscape scattering along with it. The source of interruption was Ren, who had slipped into the room without a whisper of stocking foot on floor mat.

"Thanks for nothing."

"You'll thank me later."

"For what?" Ren plopped down on the foot of the bed. "Being shut up in here whenever I'm not in school?"

"If that's what it takes."

The brothers sat in a span of silence wide as the distance between planets. They shared aquiline features and the slender, contemplative eyes of their mother. Yet Ren was drawn in thicker strokes, from the arch of his brows to the breadth of his nose and jaw. Strong of body and stubborn of will - if only he would harness such obstinance instead of letting it interfere with his schoolwork.

"How did it go today?"

"Master seemed happy with my copying. Then he threatened me with scrubbing duty if I don't learn my wisdom well enough." Ren sighed. "As in all of the walkways. Myself."

"That's more than a punishment. It's a point."

"That school is drudgery no matter what? I knew that."

Chun shook his head. "The point is that scholarship is an ongoing process, something you need to work at every day. If you bathe once, will you stay clean for the next month?"

"No." Ren winced. "I'd smell like the garbage heap."

"Then why do you think classwork is any different?"

"It looks easy for you."

"It can be. Yet it's not always that simple."

Chun had displayed literary talent since childhood. He acted out the hero’s part during Mother’s bedtime tales, memorized stories and poems without trying. Academy coursework introduced more advanced subjects, which he found means of noting for review - still a far cry from stuffing each passage into his head one word at a time. Perhaps Chun would care less for scholarship if it required such tedium.

He might see it like archery. Whether grounded or mounted, Ren shot with lethal accuracy. Chun was lucky to count an afternoon's worth of perfect marks on both hands. Sometimes he drew and fired fluidly. On other days, he surrounded the target with a bristled halo of missed shots and an arrow or two hanging off as a consolation prize. Ren had coached him on occasion, providing tips and correcting his form. When had Chun last returned the favor?

“I can help if you'd like."

"You mean you can stand over my shoulder and wonder what’s taking so long?"

Chun flushed, remembering that exercise in frustration for them both. Small wonder they had not discussed schoolwork since. "I mean I can teach you how to study."

“If you say so.” Ren gave Chun a poke. “You’re the brains. I’m the brawn. Remember?”

Chun did, hoping that Ren took it lightly. His downcast gaze said otherwise.

“That’s not true.”

Ren said nothing.

“It isn’t. I’ll prove it to you.”

Ren had gotten up to leave while Chun was still speaking. He paused at the door, casting a glance back over his shoulder.

“Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wisdom of _gen_ was adapted from _I Ching._ Translated by James Legge. 1882.
> 
> The featured verse was adapted from "Lady of the Lagoon." _The Book of Odes._ Translated by L. Cranmer-Byng. 1906.


	2. Striking Out

"Well, well, well!" Cao Hong saw fit to bray directly into Ren's ear. "Look who finally decided to show his face."

A grin. "Told you I'd be back, cousin."

Ren had slogged through the muck and emerged in the meadow. Paid his penance in evenings of hand cramps and headaches, philosophy and etiquette written over and over as his concentration wavered on the scent of chrysanthemums from the courtyard outside. Swallowed his pride and spoken with Chun, who helped him summarize the fiddliest bits into memorable notes. Ignored the jibes of Hong - a year younger and a few fingers shorter with an attitude to compensate - when he refused afternoon invitations to dawdle in the market square for a snack and a good look at passing courtesans. _Sounds to me like you’re turning into your brother. Pretty soon you’ll be writing a poem every time you take a shit._

Master Pan had kept the scrubbing brush at his side, waving it at Ren over indications of drifting off. The brush appeared less and less as the days passed by. At last it went away for good, replaced by the long awaited incentive - a cord-bound note to send his troubles packing.

Ren now sprawled by the creek with clear skies overhead and freedom all around. Yu splashed near the shore, fruitlessly stabbing at fish with a pointed stick. Teng had swiped a flask of wine, which would disappear down Gai's gullet if he had the chance to hog it. The occasional green-faced sprint to the bushes never seemed to put him off from the drink.

Gai had met up with another group on the road over. Some, like him, wore rough clothing smudged with farm dirt. Others dressed in the finer attire of academy students. They all ran their mouths in an effort to outdo each other. A schoolboy with a piggish face and matching demeanor boasted about the previous night's escapades. As if the details of a woman's pleasure needed elaboration, he added crude gestures as the story dragged on.

Teng whistled. "You sure got busy."

"Damn straight." Braggart smirked. "Amazing what trash like that will do for a few coins."

Ren shot him a look. "If she's trash, what does that make you?"

"It makes me a man. When's the last time you got laid?"

Gai snorted. "When's the last time you didn't have to pay for it?"

Braggart reddened, ambling off to watch Yu flail at the fish as if the boy could catch him a retort as well. The others passed the flask and moved onto other topics. Teng's wine was weak and bitter, but Ren drank a deep draught of it anyway. It tasted of the sun, of the wind, of a day stretching long and slow ahead of him.

A shadow fell across their circle, and a large and familiar hand reached down for the flask. Scoundrel’s given name was unknown, but his moniker served well enough. His eyes were hard, his sleeves torn off to showcase bulging arm muscles, his mouth always on the verge of a sneer. Scoundrel was a force of nature like any other, a lowering cloud that flared up periodically to remind the world of his existence. A gale to blow through, unearthing bounty by sheer disruption.

Hong turned over the wine. His singular refusal of Scoundrel's demands had sent him home with a torn collar, a black eye, and threats of worse for the next infraction.

Scoundrel drained the flask in one great swallow before throwing it to the ground. "Tastes like horse piss," he proclaimed, his roaming gaze daring anyone to ask whether he knew this from personal experience. Receiving no response, he sauntered off into the woods.

An acquaintance of Gai turned to him. "Friend of yours?"

"No, just some asshole."

Braggart had returned to the group. "He's worse than that."

The others waited for him to continue.

"I was over at this whore - this girl's house for the usual. So I'm going at it, going to town, you know how that goes."

Hong threw a chunk of dirt at him. "Get on with it already."

"So it's all going fine and then someone starts banging on the door like they're trying to tear it down. She shoves me off and tells me to hide. I don't ask questions. I don't even stop to put my pants back on. So I'm bare-assed behind this barrel in the corner and the door slams right off the hinges. And guess who comes stomping in.

"He takes one look at her and goes off. 'You were at it. I knew it. So where the hell is my money?' She won't give him any, so he smacks her right in the face. He picks up my pants and looks around the room. 'He's still here, isn't he? Then I'll beat it out of him myself.'

"And just like that, he's tearing the place apart. Cussing, yelling, shit flying everywhere. He gets over to that barrel, and I know I'm dead meat. So he starts to pick it up. Right before he sees me, the girl runs outside. He goes after her and I go off in the other direction." Braggart indicated his pants with a laugh. "I even got these back on the way out."

Some of the boys gawped, impressed with this escape from mortal danger. Ren raised an eyebrow. "You didn't help her?"

"Like you're any better. You just sat there while he took that wine."

"You compare a girl to a flask of wine?"

Braggart guffawed. "They cost about the same, don't they?"

Rage spiked hot in Ren's chest, and he bit back the urge to squash the coward's face in further. Gai sprung into action, tackling a shocked Braggart to the ground with wiry strength and the advantage of surprise. A brief scuffle forced him into some painful contortion, hollering to surrender. Gai wrested a few more yells out of Braggart before letting him up.

Gai kept a wary eye on his opponent, fists clenched at his sides. Braggart backed away with a baleful glare before turning tail and moving out. Some of the others followed him.

Fights were normally hashed out, finished, and forgotten. This one took the wind out of the day's sails. Even Yu gave up on his fish, sitting down with the group as if his presence would inspire some spectacle. When nothing followed but more awkward silence, Teng wandered off in search of worthwhile amusement. Ren and Gai left down a winding road through the rural outskirts of town.

Gai picked up a stick, swinging at branches grown out over the road. "Worthless fuck." He grabbed a handful of wild berries and launched them, one by one, at the packed dirt. "He better not ever show his face near me again."

Ren said nothing.

"My father's dead. I've got four kid brothers. You know why we don't starve?"

Ren still saw no need to speak. Servicing men brought in more income than toiling in the fields. It was also immune to the ravages of droughts, scorching heat, and swarms of locusts.

Gai kicked at a stone. "Easy to judge when you're filthy rich."

The road led them to Gai's home, a hut accompanied by a small plot of farmland. Two young boys battled with sticks as another clumsily hacked at the earth with a hoe sized for a grown man. A baby cried somewhere in the house. They waved their goodbyes, and Gai went to see about his evening's chores.

Ren continued onward, mulling over Gai's last words. Though directed elsewhere, they rang harsh and repeatedly in his head. His meals were full, his storehouses abundant with meat and grain, his home surrounded by gardens rather than forlorn crops and depleted hardscrabble. And while others eked out their pittance, he carried on his callow way.

* * *

Up at daybreak for a long morning out, Cao Ren headed home with his hunter's reward. Six pheasants, full-grown and fat, hung from Thunder Cloud's saddle. Ren would eat well tonight.

Yet he would eat well regardless, and he took a turn at the crossroads to pay Gai a visit. Forgetting the standards of gift-bearing etiquette, Ren flipped a mental coin to decide which direction to turn the pheasant's head. He doubted anyone would care if he got it wrong. Meat was meat, especially when delivered free of charge or effort.

Gai's mother answered the door, a wan reed of a woman with threadbare robes tightly belted to display her curves to best effect. "What will it be?"

"Nothing." Ren held out the pheasant. "It's a gift."

She rested a soothing hand on his arm. "There's no need to be shy."

Ren flushed. "I'm not here for that."

Gai strolled in from the fields, doing a narrow-eyed double take at his visitor. "Ren?"

"I'm not here for that!" Ren shoved the bird into Gai's hands. "I wanted to give this to you. And there's more where it came from."

Stammering his gratitude, Gai set the pheasant in the tiny kitchen occupying a corner of the house. His mother went off to prepare the bird for cooking. Gai followed Ren outside, his eyes bulging at the size of the haul.

"All that's for us?"

Ren nodded.

"You know when's the last time we ate like this?"

"It's been a while, has it not?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Gai met his eyes. "I owe you one."

"It's nothing."

With dinner a ways off, Ren headed deeper into the countryside. He passed more farms - some prosperous, some ramshackle - and a bridge where a few boys fished with makeshift rods of sticks and string. He rode by a pond of cranes arguing in indignant trills. Judging from shouts further up the road, the birds were not the only ones settling their differences today.

Upon a better view of the commotion, Ren’s amusement turned to ice in his stomach. He stopped, dismounted, and sneaked into a nearby thicket, slipping through the undergrowth for a closer look.

A gang of bandits had surrounded a farmer with a sack of grain in tow. The lackeys brandished fists. Their leader wielded some evil-looking blade.

He plunged it into the farmer.

The man dropped his bag and fell to his knees with the same dead weight as a dark stain spread over his chest. Spoils in hand, the rabble hastened away from Ren's vantage point as his heart pounded like a war drum through the silence.

Ren sprinted to the victim, too late but refusing to leave him be. The man's torso was gashed open, his eyes lifeless glass. One hand still clutched the bloody wound in a desperate effort to hold back his vitality by force of will.

Ren raced home as if the thunder of hooves could pound away the horror branded into his mind. His gut churned, threatening to send his breakfast on a fast trip to the ground. Five had swarmed a defenseless man, ripped his life away in one blow. For what? A sack of grain?

The voice of Braggart mocked him. _They cost about the same, don't they? And you just sat there the whole time._

Ren's stomach twisted. He could have fired an arrow, scared them off. Or been gutted himself if they mobbed him instead.

Images filtered in alongside the frozen shock of the farmer's face. A merchant greeting Ren with his arm in a sling and snappish refusal to barter. Gai cursing about stolen tools, plundered fields, a neighbor's brood of chickens disappearing overnight. Five against one, and more where they came from. Who would stand up to stop the unrest?

The question took root as Ren dismounted at the gates of home. It grew as he turned Thunder Cloud over to the stable staff. It prodded Ren with its thorns as he bode the hour before dinner, reviewing page after page of textbook without comprehending a word.

* * *

Cao Ren managed to force down his soup and a few bites of meat. At least he did not need to talk. Chun and Mother prattled on about a newly purchased collection of poetry, which Ren dreaded enough in school and was happy to ignore elsewhere. Once Chun had tried to explain the appeal by reading him a verse about nature. A particular phrase smelled like wind through the meadow grass. The rest was mere words, and Ren would rather be outside himself than learn the alchemy of language required for the intended effect.

Ren admittedly had to credit poetry this once for giving him room to think. Now he could get back to work.

But every line blurred into an awful memory. A blade glittering in the still midday sun. The steady ooze of blood. Unseeing eyes that stared at Ren until he shoved his book aside, hoping that brother was in the mood to talk.

As if summoned, Chun stopped by the chamber door with a tea tray. Ren motioned for him to come in and sit down. He did so, pouring a cup for each of them.

"What's going on? You hardly ate."

The tea was some potent herbal concoction. Ren took a good long drink to loosen the words from his tongue.

"I saw a man get killed."

Chun stopped mid-sip.

"By bandits. For a bag of grain."

"Where did this happen?"

"Out in the country. He was a farmer minding his business." Ren swallowed. "And I was a coward hiding in the bushes."

Chun set down the teacup, meeting Ren's eyes with sincerity. "You weren't a coward."

"I had my bow."

"But you also had sense. What could you have done to stop one criminal, let alone a whole group?"

Just as Ren had tried to tell himself. Strange how the same line of reasoning rang truer when spoken by someone else.

"Besides, it's not your concern. It's the inspectors' job."

"What if they aren't doing that well enough?" Overseers paid little attention to the farmlands. Teng, who never dared to steal from market stalls, readily looted merchant's wagons stopped on rural roads. He would perhaps get an earful of cursing if spotted, along with some exercise if the victim gave chase as well. Not that it mattered. The inspectors, shapeless old men taking lackadaisical patrols around town, would be pheasants ripe for the picking in the face of a bandit attack.

Chun continued as if Ren had not spoken. “Government maintains order because it follows natural rules to receive Heaven's blessing.” He smiled. ”I know you were awake when Master went over that.”

Ren failed to return the expression.

"And we've been blessed this year. The weather is pleasant, and the merchants have plenty of food to sell."

The same could not be said for Gai and his neighbors.

"So Heaven is taking care of its own, both in nature and in government. Just as the forest regrows after a storm, law breakers will be punished as they deserve."

Ren topped off his teacup. "I'm glad you have such faith."

"I know you do, too." Chun touched Ren’s sleeve. "At the very least, you're too stubborn to let this get the better of you."

A smile at last. "I can agree with that."

They finished the tea and said their good nights, leaving Ren to toss and turn to early sleep.

* * *

Cao Ren tried to put the bandits behind him, burying them under a mental boulder like any other irrelevance. They stayed there when he was at home or in school or browsing the busy marketplace. But country roads blurred into that stretch where the farmer had met his end, and the surrounding wilderness seemed alive with the glares of malevolent watchmen.

A thought occurred to him, bold and brash and too compelling to ignore. Discussion with friends turned it into a plan.

Hong claimed to find enough trouble on his own. Gai jumped in with both feet and a promise to round up some others for the cause. Ren expected him to bring a buddy or three, perhaps to take pity on his brothers. Instead, their first meeting was quite the surprise.

About ten farmer's sons waited by the river, each carrying a long wooden pole. A dummy of stuffed sacks was tied to a tree, complete with a rough dot painted on the center.

Ren boggled. Gai grinned. "I said I owed you one." He turned to his friends. "Here's the guy I was telling you about."

The group nodded, looking at Ren expectantly. He wished he had prepared some speech of introduction.

"I'm glad to meet all of you. My name is Cao Ren."

A mouse-faced boy spoke up. "Hu Xu."

Then one with a natural expression of bewilderment. "Fei Gong."

And so on until everyone had identified themselves. Ren doubted he would remember them all at the end of the day, but some tension had been broken.

"We all know why we're here, so let's get to work. We have numbers. That's good. We have weapons. That's great. What we need now is practice."

Ren reached out to Gong, who handed over his pole. It made a fine improvised weapon - cheap, reasonably light, hefty enough to hurt. The end could be whittled into a point and sharpened many times before the staff shortened too much to be useful.

Nodding at the dummy, Ren motioned for everyone to line up behind him. He approached the target and gave it a solid whack with the stick. One by one, the others attacked as well. Some swung. Others charged, holding their staves like battering rams. Gai spiked the dummy at full tilt, bouncing backward and landing on his rear. He learned from his mistake on the next round. A less astute boy swung wildly over and over until Ren pulled him aside to demonstrate a strong stance.

When the dummy lost its stuffing, the boys moved on to other drills. Some dueled. Others swung and poked at invisible opponents. Ren took turns participating and observing, unsure of what guidance might help. The group's techniques were on the scrappy side. Yet they seemed effective enough, especially with the organizational concepts Ren had in mind.

Teng wandered by with a bow slung across his back and a pheasant in hand. "Looks like fun. Can I play, too?"

"It's not a game."

"I know. That's what makes it fun."

Flippancy aside, perhaps Teng was worth a chance. One more body could be of use.

“You do know what we’re doing, right?”

“Going out on patrol. Hong told me.”

“So you understand we’re here to stop trouble, not to cause it.”

“Makes sense to me.”

"Good." Ren nodded at the rest of the group. "Go join them."

Teng indicated his bow. "But I have this." And the pheasant. "I finally shot something with it, too."

Ren shook his head, remembering a hunt where Teng had been lucky to hit a tree. "You're just as likely to shoot one of us by mistake. Until you get good at target practice, it's a stick or nothing."

"Fair enough." With a shrug, Teng picked up a spare staff and did as he was told.

When the mock duels slowed into slop, Ren called for a break. From time to time, Father had taken him and Chun to the training grounds to watch the cavalry drills. They marveled at the arrays of riders with crisp uniforms, stern posture, and strict attention to the leader's commands. A similar emphasis on order would give an edge over rabble.

Ren gathered everyone back after they refreshed themselves by the creek. "You all fight well on your own. Now, we’ll learn to fight together. Bandits surround their victims, scare them into giving up. When we stand as a group, we'll show them no fear. When we move as a group, we’ll have the upper hand."

He directed the boys in simple formations. They walked in rows to resemble a regiment rather than a horde of troublemakers. They spread out on command, encircling imaginary foes. They huddled into knots with their backs facing inward and weapons bristled out into a collective ring of spikes.

The group was apt. Apart from a couple of stragglers, the boys marched steadily and hustled into place when signaled. Remembering Gai's young brothers fighting out in the yard, Ren suspected he was leading a more sophisticated version of that same game. He and Chun had played soldier as well, but the sticks were taken away and replaced with books as they began to understand written words. Self-defense had never been part of their everyday life.

Practice finished up as afternoon faded into evening. The farm boys headed home, striding off with their staves held high. One of them had slung the flattened dummy over his shoulder like a trophy from the hunt. Teng offered to return for the next meeting. _Better than my original plans._ Not that Teng planned much of anything, but he had shut his mouth and gone to work and stuck around to see it through. Ren took this as a compliment.

Hu Xu stayed behind, watching Ren untie Thunder Cloud from a tree. "Some bastard raped my sister Ling. I hope we get him."

Ren nodded. "I hope so, too."

"We're going to, right? Beat him into a pulp?"

"We'll be alert and prepared. That's all I can promise."

Ren saddled up and turned to leave. Xu held him back as he began to ride away.

"Let me ask you something else." Xu's small eyes were direct and searching. "What's in this for you?"

"Knowing that I stood up when others would not."

"You mean that?"

"Of course."

"Good. Because you're not going to get rich or famous hanging out with us."

"I wasn't planning on either."

* * *

"So when do we get to fight?" demanded a jumpy scrap of a boy whose name escaped Cao Ren's mind. He asked the same question on every outing although the response never varied.

"We’ll fight when we have to."

Ren dreaded the inevitability of combat. He knew its dangers and demands, had accepted them before picking up his first weapon. Even so, confrontation was a grave necessity rather than an anticipated thrill.

A handful of rough men had passed them by without comment, as had a government official taking his ride through the farmlands. Ren had supplied everyone with hunting attire, a replacement for ragtag garments with every mishap marked by another patch or mend. Some uniforms were hemmed or rolled up, others short on gangly wrists and ankles. The boys all wore them proudly as they marched behind Ren in organized lines.

Ren’s squad patrolled a populous region of farmland on a route planned by Gai, sweeping a close circle around their meeting place. Their focus proved useful when they marched down a quiet lane visited earlier that morning. This time, a man hurried away from a farm with an armload of tools. An elbow to Ren's side informed him that this was not the rightful owner.

"Hey!" Ren hollered. The thief abandoned his spoils and took off. Scrapper broke away from the group to sprint after him.

The criminal slowed to a halt as the boy caught up. He turned around with predatory amusement, sneering at Scrapper as a bug to be squashed. Knees shaking, the boy approached with his pole held out in front of him like a charm to ward off evil.

Scrapper stood steady as a bandit appeared from the nearby forest, soon accompanied by another. The rest showed themselves, and Scrapper was surrounded.

A moment of inaction, and instinct kicked in. Ren charged into the circle with a mighty bellow, slamming a miscreant out of his way. Some others followed him to drive a wedge through the rabble. Scrapper threw down his stick and turned to run. A hand reached out and grabbed the boy's collar, yanking him back like a rag doll. The other held a knife.

Ren spun into a swing, striking Scrapper's assailant with a hefty blow to the side. The bandit staggered and lashed back before Ren dodged. Pain streaked down Ren's flank, sharp as the attacker's blade itself.

Ren got his bearings and retaliated, fueled by the fire of his injury. These criminals could have called it off, run away. Instead, they saw fit to kill a boy half their size for an armful of wood and steel. Over and over Ren bludgeoned the miscreant until the man dropped his knife and fell backward alongside it. Ren loomed over him with a firm grip on his staff and a prayer that he would not need to use it again.

The bandit reached for his weapon. Ren kicked his outstretched hand, realizing a moment later that the man could have grabbed his foot. But he did not. The miscreant scooted backward, got himself standing, and awkwardly trotted off down the road. His companions broke away to flee after him.

Yelling for a retreat, Ren led a fast march back to their meeting place. Some soldiers were unharmed. Others had earned a few lumps and scrapes, nothing worse than the results of an everyday scuffle. Ren removed his top for a look at the gash. To his relief, it was a surface wound - a long, ugly, and bloody one, but minor nonetheless. He bandaged it up with a cloth strip and changed into a clean shirt stashed for such purposes.

A few boys had fled when the skirmish began. One by one, the runaways came back to the clearing. They sat without speaking, looking at the ground or each other or anything to avoid meeting Ren's eyes. Fei Gong, appearing more contrite than bewildered, began to mumble an apology. Ren waved for him to shut it.

Scrapper stood up and approached, his eyes wide with shame. _So you got your chance to fight. Are you happy?_ The answer was clear, as was the boy’s realization that he had nearly paid with his life. His rank breaking still had to be addressed.

As Ren chose his words, Scrapper demonstrated the address he expected. He turned around, removed his shirt, and bent over. His narrow back was mottled with bruises.

Some lessons were best learned at the end of a switch. A student might squawk all through detention until shut up by a few whacks on the rear. Even so, such punishment was a last resort. Every mistake in this boy's life was mapped out in clouds of fading blotches. In this sense, he had already been piled on enough.

"Get dressed. And stay in formation next time."

Still wide-eyed - this time with relief - Scrapper scrambled into his top and back with the others.

"That goes for the rest of you." Ren turned to the boys who had stuck close by. "You were all with me. Thanks to you, we stopped a theft in its tracks."

"As to you." Ren faced the group of stragglers. "I have your front. I need to trust that you'll have my back. If you can promise that, then prove it to me next time. If not, you're free to go."

Some gave him a smile, a nod, or a few words of agreement. Others slunk off without comment, unlikely to ever return. Ren made no attempt to hold them back.

* * *

Cao Ren took a slow ride home, wincing at the ruts and bumps in the rural roads. Despite his caution, his bandage had begun to soak through by the time he got back to his chambers. Ren had once needed sutures for a nasty cut that refused to stay closed on its own. Disturbing as it would be to sew himself up, this injury called for the same treatment.

Ren sneaked into a storage room for a fresh cloth strip, a thin needle and thread, and a jar of medicinal salve. He turned around to find Jade Blossom, Mother’s most trusted maidservant, waiting at the door with folded arms and a knowing gaze.

"Let's see the damage."

Ren's stomach dropped. He stripped off his shirt to reveal the bloodied bandage.

Jade Blossom loosened the cloth, took a glance underneath, tightened it in place once again. "I'll be back in a moment to take care of this. When I return, I expect you'll tell me where it came from."

Ren knelt and waited, thinking over his story as if preparing for trial. Jade Blossom had her knack for dragging out the truth with an incisive look, a cocked eyebrow, a certain tilt of her head. A strategically abridged version of events might stand up to her scrutiny.

Jade Blossom reentered the room with a washbowl and a lit lamp. She purified the needle with flame, setting it aside to cool after it glowed red. "All right. Let's hear it."

"I got into a fight with a bandit gang."

"Really? That's some trouble, even for you." Jade Blossom began to wash Ren’s wound, bringing a shudder with the initial chill of wet rag on flushed skin. "Especially after how quiet you've been over these past few months."

"The trouble found me." Which was true, though Ren had invited it by being out on patrol. "Those criminals tried to kill a friend of mine. I wasn't about to let them."

"It's fortunate you weren't killed yourself." Jade Blossom dried off the clean gash, applied a thin coating of balm, and prepared to stitch it up. "Don't let all that time with your books take away the good sense Heaven gave you."

Ren observed Jade Blossom's adept technique, steeling himself for each prick of the needle and subsequent pull of the string. His own attempt would have been clumsy at best, cringeworthy if his luck failed him. Perhaps some practice on plucked pheasants could help with a human patient.

Jade Blossom gave her handiwork a once-over before tying on a new bandage. "Be careful with this, now. Best to take a break from the archery until it heals."

No surprise there. The dratted wound was on Ren's right side where it would painfully stretch with every pull of the bow. "How about riding?"

"That should be fine as long as you take it easy. If it hurts - stop."

"I knew that."

Jade Blossom smiled wryly. "After all you've gotten yourself into, I'm not so sure."


	3. Gaining Ground

“First you had to do homework. Now you’re off on some crusade.” Cao Hong took a bite of his pear. “What am I? Rotten meat?”

“You’re obnoxious.”

A grin. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I got stitches.”

“Can I see them?”

“They’re long gone now.” A faint scar commemorated Cao Ren’s first victory, only visible in direct sunlight.

“And you’re still at it. You must have some big brass balls or a blockhead to beat them all." Hong finished his pear and threw away the core. "My bet's on the blockhead."

Ren ignored him, pausing their market tour to watch a basket take shape in its weaver's nimble hands. Such vessels were resilient and durable, as were floor mats made out of the same tough grasses. Their material might be suitable for lightweight armor.

"Funny, isn't it?" Hong smirked. "I thought studying was supposed to make you smarter."

"It taught me to shut my mouth. That's something you could stand to learn."

Once a means to an end, classwork had rubbed off on Ren in unforeseen and useful ways. Drilling knowledge into his own head had shown him how to explain it to others. Ren broke down the steps of formations and fighting stances, identified common mistakes and techniques for unlearning them. He even took an interest in the practical side of his curriculum, receiving a high mark on an essay about guidelines for agricultural policy. The final product arose from several failed drafts and input from Chun, who had reorganized Ren’s thoughts into surprising clarity. Ren was half grateful, half frustrated with his own inability to take that final step himself, and entirely appreciative of Chun’s praise for the raw material. No upturned nose, no veiled derision over plain prose and simple calligraphy - just kind words well earned.

"Maybe I should stop by one of these days. See what it is you’re doing. If even Teng’s into it, maybe it’s worth my time."

"Just don't waste my time if it isn't."

"What are you now, Prefect of Tightass County?"

Ren smacked Hong's topknot. "Better than being a dumbass like you. Besides, I thought I was the blockhead to beat them all."

"You can be both."

"How about neither?"

"Good luck with that."

* * *

The bandits abandoned their prize in the rutted road, cracking patches of ice underfoot as they fled. They had swaggered and blustered along, taunting the modest banner sewn by Cao Ren’s soldiers. They froze when the boys snapped into formation, stood dumbly as the bows and staves snapped up. Scampered like mice when Ren’s arrow whistled past the leader’s head.

Gai shouted gaily after them, his voice a white plume in the frigid air. “Cowards!”

Ren gave him a jesting shove. “Shut it, will you?”

“First you say no brawling, now I don’t get to brag?” Gai shook his head in mock aggravation. “You’re killing me over here.”

“I can arrange a resurrection.”

“You’ve got a plan for everything, don’t you?”

“Not quite. I’ll have to dig you up and figure it out later.”

Ren had put no edge to his words. He was smiling himself. A perfect warning shot, an effortless win, and a haul to boot. The cart overflowed with a mishmash of merchandise from grain sacks to glazed dishware, and the boys swarmed over it to help themselves. Ren called off the picking when he noticed the name painted on its side.

Gai peered at the letters. “Who’s that?”

“Luo Ding.”

“My landowner,” Hu Xu spat. “Gouges us to the bottom of the barrel and then goes digging for more. You really want to give that back to him?”

“No. But I don’t want the reputation of a thief.”

“He doesn’t have to know, and he’s not going to care. And if he does, to hell with him. Ling got sold so we could make rent. Let him know how it feels.”

Ren suppressed a temptation to agree. “I don’t respect a man like that, but I do respect our standards. If we break the rules once, they’ll be broken again in the future.”

Tripled in size since its first outing, Ren’s army had developed strict guidelines to keep its numbers in line. Owned property was returned, disputes settled with words rather than fists. The boys generally behaved out of eagerness to belong, with displeased remarks and additional drills serving to correct the odd lapse in discipline. A few soldiers took a shine to the military structure, directing exercises while Ren stole away with his schoolwork.

This fellowship inspired the boys to try anything their comrades would teach them. A friend of Fei Gong's, proficient at first aid from caring for troublesome siblings, demonstrated sutures on scraps of thin leather. Ren had brought scrolls of children's songs for those interested in reading. He struggled to explain the basics learned at Mother's side so many years ago, but his students responded with plenty of their own effort. Gai boasted that he would soon be ready for a real story, simple as it might be.

“So we don’t do a damn thing to him at all?”

“We have to draw our lines. Choose our battles. Not become part of the problem we’re out here to solve.” Ren met Xu’s eyes. “I have no solution to your landowner’s greed, but I can say this isn’t it. We won’t teach him a lesson. We’ll only upset him.”

Xu laughed. “That’s a problem?”

“It can be. Even if he doesn’t know who’s responsible, he might take it out on you.”

Xu fell quiet, remembering seasons of illness and scant harvest when Miserly Luo had doubled taxation out of spite. His family had scraped a jar of savings, a pittance with eventual hopes of adequacy. Another poor twist of fortune, and it would all be emptied once again.

An inspector approached the crossroads behind them, his uniform vivid against the drab and dormant fields. Ren shouted for attention, and the official turned his horse to investigate.

Ren bowed. “This cart was taken by bandits. We ask that you return it to the Luo estate.”

“It would be my honor. I know the family well.” The inspector took a closer look at Ren’s banner as he reached into his coin purse. “Master Luo reported this theft in the morning. How fortunate that I was able to recover it that same afternoon.”

The official hitched up the cart with pompous aplomb. Xu gazed at it longingly, added up the imagined price of sculpted pottery and rich brocade. He pictured bronze vessels and lacquered dishware laid out on his worn floor mats as a defiant show of extravagance.

A slender vase of porcelain was nestled in the nearby corner. Xu began to sneak a hand toward it. Ren halted him with a glare, his sleek eyes sharpened to arrowheads.

Surprising weight tugged at Xu’s sash. He opened his pouch, found it full. Xu had counted the inspector’s reward as it was handed over. Ren’s gaze softened as Xu realized he had doubled it.

* * *

Character after character, line after line, stroke after tedious brush stroke. Verse upon verse, Cao Ren distilled the toil and triumph of long-dead leaders. Names and dates and places all lined up in formation, parading across his bamboo sheets as regiments marched off to battle so many years ago. Glyphs grew legs, raised swords, tensed to unleash a hailstorm of arrows -

\- and Ren lifted his head to find the last few events flattened into a smudge. He rubbed his nose and came away with a smear of ink. First Ren had nodded off in class, where Chun had mercifully nudged him before Master Pan administered a harsher wake-up call. Even with the tea that servants drank by the potful during night watch, he was doing no better at home.

Chun called in from the doorway. "I can use a break. How about you?"

Ren got up from his mat, wishing such reprieve would extend to more than schoolwork.

The gardens were dreary at this time of year, so they went to a guest chamber where the sun shone from a vibrant mural of paradise. Phoenixes soared alongside Heaven's eye, their feathers edged with fine brushstrokes of gold. A servant followed with a tray of tea and fruit.

"Thanks for the help earlier."

"You've been putting so much work into your scholarship. I'd hate to see you fall behind over a mistake." Chun raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Besides, I can sympathize."

Popping a date into his mouth, Ren waited for Chun to continue.

"I was drifting off as well. They ought to be called the Spring and Boredom Annals."

Ren laughed. "I never thought you'd meet a school subject you didn't like."

"I didn't, either." Chun ducked Ren's playful slap at his topknot. "But there's a first time for everything, is there not?"

"I'd say so." Ren had recently taken such a leap of his own, entrusting Gai to scout a town where the high road branched. Childhood memories of the place, viewed from a carriage en route to visiting Father in Luoyang, marked it as a mere way station. It was a landmark nonetheless, a stepping stone to destinations beyond. If only Ren were breaking new ground rather than poring over relics of the distant past.

"Mathematical problems are puzzles to work through. The Changes and Odes all have some artistry to them. There's a rhythm to the words, and they bring images to mind as well." Chun sipped his tea. "The Annals are row after row of old, dry ink."

"I'd agree with that, though some aren't so bad. The battle reports make me think of men riding off to war."

"That sounds about right for you."

Ren's mug nearly slipped from his hands.

"You are the star horseman of the family, after all. But my archery is catching up to yours."

A secret breath of relief. "Is it, now?"

"Come out to the field and I'll show you."

Already up and leaving, Ren paused at the door to cast a rakish glance over his shoulder. "I'll race you from the west courtyard."

Chun followed with a grin. Some joys of childhood never lost their appeal.

* * *

Du Gai and his small band of fellows had left town in high spirits. The rock clearing and the wood gathering and the carpentry were all caught up for now. Their humble farms had some advantages in that regard, with fewer fences to mend and a tiny hut to maintain. The growing season would soon start, bringing them back to hoeing and weeding and cursing when grain failed to thrive in the thin soil of their yards. But they were on a road forward rather than mired in one spot, and it stretched toward a distant horizon they saw some prayer of attaining.

The clouds turned into mist and then a drizzle, and the early green of farmlands faded into barren wilderness stubbornly resisting the spring thaw. Cao Ren's banner, the singular scrap of blue sky in the countryside, wilted into a ghost of its usual glory. Wisecracks trailed off as the boys trod along with no more than a rare passing carriage to break the monotony.

Zhi poked Gai as they passed a forgotten road marker. "What does that say?"

"Beats me." The painted glyphs were tired and worn. Gai had no idea what they originally looked like, let alone what they meant.

"That's what you said last time."

Gai rolled his eyes. So this was the downside of learning to read. He knew the numbers, the months, and simple verses of other common words, and everyone made him out to be some sort of sage. When Gai finally worked through the story Ren had given him, he would be just about ready to dispense wisdom from a mountaintop.

"How much longer now?" Zhi demanded.

"That's what you said last time, too. And the time before that."

Hu Xu chimed in. "And the time before that as well."

"All right, all right!" Zhi snapped. "Sorry I asked. I'll keep my mouth shut from now on."

Which he had also said before and obviously failed to deliver upon. To no one's surprise, Zhi repeated his tiresome inquiries at every marker afterward.

At last, the boys came upon a signpost marking the village outskirts. Though tempted to parade into town, sodden banner and all, Gai rolled up the pennant and stuffed it into his pack. They were best off blending into this uncharted territory - a ragtag group on a quest to see what they could see, seeking their fortune like a more practical form of folk tale hero. Children dreamed of being written in legend for slaying some fantastical beast. Men put their heads down and got to work, carving out luck as they found it instead of waiting for it to overcome their circumstances of birth.

Town itself was an unremarkable cluster of buildings, sprung up around the crossroads like toadstools growing on the dark side of a log. Or on a heap of manure - a more apt comparison to the surrounding wasteland. Its narrow streets were empty, its houses silvered from weather exposure and slick with rain. Gai had a mind to dare someone to touch one and see if his hand came away slimy.

Somebody groaned. "That's all? What a waste."

"Don't knock it until you've seen it." Gai indicated the sprawling inn, which glowed invitingly through its shuttered windows. "At least we'll get some food and a dry place to sleep."

The inn was warm and well-kept, run by a man who served Gai and his fellows with efficient discretion. Ren had provided coin for lodging, and the boys treated themselves to a full meal and a spacious chamber to share. The steamed bread was fresh and plentiful, the noodle bowls hearty with chunks of meat rather than gristled scraps barely flavoring the broth.

After eating their fill and washing up, the boys headed out. Some went to the outskirts in search of sheltered land for camping on future excursions. Gai and the others explored the village, unsure of what they ought to find. Carriages plodded through now and then, but none had plans of stopping. Perhaps the outspoken pessimist was right after all.

Perhaps not. A gang of teenagers had gathered near the inn, pitching coins at the wall of the alleyway to the stables. Gai separated from the others to join them.

Gai hung back as a casual observer. A few turns later, he had grasped the game enough to edge himself in. A tall boy with a flat, impassive face flicked his head at the coins and then gave Gai a questioning look.

Closest to the wall won the round. Gai lost a few and had one lucky win while getting a sense of the group. Apart from insults grunted at the winner, the boys gambled in silence. Every thought on Gai's mind seemed a poor choice to break it.

As a turn ended, one of the boys tossed up his empty hands. "I'm all out."

Gai seized the chance to save some of his money. "Me too."

Another voice piped up. "Yeah, let's go. It's getting too dark to see."

The boys migrated to the hay shed behind the inn. One sneaked into the back door and came out with a jug of wine in each hand. They passed the liquor as night fell, their shadowed features spectral in the torchlight of the stable yards.

Someone turned to Gai. "Where are you from?"

"Qiaocheng. Back east."

"Why are you all the way out here? It's not like there's much going on."

"There's not much going on back there, either."

A low voice spoke up from his right, languid and smooth with a razor edge. "I'll drink to that."

Gai took a modest sip and handed the wine over. Its recipient helped himself to a chug before thumping the jar down in the hay.

"It was going on. Going on like you wouldn't believe." Another gulp of liquor. "Until some little shits stuck their pricks where they don't belong."

A chill crawled over Gai's skin. He held his tongue, trusting that the wine had loosened the other boy's well enough for him to finish spilling.

"Dirt farmer dogs and some spoiled rich fuck. Jin. No, Ran. Uh..."

"Ren?"

The boy leaned in close, his breath heavy with alcohol fumes. "You know him?"

"I've seen him around."

"Then you tell him this." The boy produced a knife from some hidden pocket of his belt. He held it up, allowing the firelight to trace a wicked glint along its blade. "He keeps it up, we'll hunt him down." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "And I'll tell you that hunters are rewarded."

Gai took a moment of consideration before giving his response.

"How much?"

The boy reached into a pouch and counted out several coins, heavier and larger than the petty change gambled away in the hours prior. They would buy a month's worth of meat, maybe more. A reprieve for Mother and relief for Gai's brothers, who could enjoy being children instead of collectively filling Father's shoes.

"That's yours to keep. There's more to come when you finish the job."

His directive repeated in Gai’s head as it soured in his stomach. Awful way to put it, sticking a price on a human head as a neighbor might trade a string of jerky for help with the harvest. But this opportunity could not be allowed to pass into the night.

"I'm listening."

* * *

The soldiers marched five wide and ten deep with Cao Ren and Du Gai at the forefront. Though their packs were heavy with supplies, their footsteps fell in a jubilant rhythm. They hollered in response to Ren's chants, and they joined him in hoisting the banners high whenever a rider passed them by. Cloudless skies above promised a clear night to follow.

Ren's pulse quickened when the village came into view. As Gai had said, it was unassuming at best. But his expedition had confirmed its potential, and followup plans fit within a scheduled break from school. The iron was hot. Now was the time for Ren to strike out there himself, staking his claim with sights set on destinations beyond.

Ren turned to Gai, whose usual alert gaze had settled into contemplation. "Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"You had better be." Ren gave a teasing nudge. "You're the expert on this place, you know."

A nervous laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. I just hope it all goes well."

"I know it will. After all, it was your idea."

Gai nodded, then returned to staring off into the distance.

* * *

_Get him out here. We'll take care of the rest._

More than a course of action, this served as a statement of purpose. Cao Ren's army would be annihilated along with its leader. Dead men did not seek revenge.

In the last hour of twilight, Du Gai set out to play his part. Finishing the job.

He had joined the others in making camp, setting up tents and building a fire circle in the center. A wide, lazy creek bordered one side of the clearing. The other ran up against a wildwood of tall trees and tangled undergrowth. The forest provided windbreak, kindling, wild fowl to supplement their grain porridge rations. It was also a maze of bracken to ensnare the unfamiliar in its barbed claws. In more ways than one, an ideal cover for the hunt.

Gai led the bandits single file along a path committed to memory. Guided by traces of moonlight filtering in through the treetops, they moved as whispers among the shifting shadows. Gai pushed brambles aside as they advanced, matching his footsteps to the dire thud of his heart. His previous fights had been nothing. Everyone took their share of lumps, at worst getting sutures and a vacation from patrol. Tonight, soldiers were going to die. And it had been his idea.

The trees began to thin above the dense underbrush. Firelight glimmered through the forest, and an array of small tents came into view. Three of Ren's soldiers sprawled around the campfire, passing a flask back and forth. Their staves lay scattered behind them.

A chuckle slithered to Gai's ear before vanishing into the darkness. "Fools. They'll never know what hit them."

Gai managed a confident response through his rattled nerves. "Isn't that the truth."

Onward they crept, a serpent coiled to strike at its clueless prey. When Gai passed a tree with a fabric scrap tied high around its trunk, he directed the bandits to halt. He readied his staff, which was fitted with the blade of a scythe. Behind him came the rustle of twenty others doing the same.

Gai began the countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. The others murmured along in anticipation.

Six.

Five.

Four.

"Now!"

Gai dove to the side as Cao Ren jumped out of the scrub with an arrow notched and ready. Two other archers flanked him, backed up by a row of soldiers with sharpened staves.

"Traitor!"

Gai gave a triumphant guffaw. Such a strange insult to hear from the mouth of someone who had tried to buy him. Anyone putting a price on loyalty could expect it to belong to the highest bidder, and Ren's leadership was valued beyond compare.

A few miscreants turned and beat a hasty retreat through the forest. The rest rushed forth with a terrible yell, blundering through the briars that had served as a natural rampart for the ambush.

With that, the fight was on.

* * *

Cao Ren had to hand it to Gai. If anyone could fit in with a gang of criminals long enough to double cross them, it would be him. And Gai had handed Ren a bewildered herd of bandits in return.

The bramble patch barely hindered the ruffians, who crashed on through with little regard to the thorns tearing at their clothes or the volleys sent their way. Most of the arrows sailed by, serving as cover fire. Ren landed a shot in the arm of a miscreant who ripped it out without slowing his charge.

Ren's main force had concealed itself in the forest. When their enemy burst into the clearing, the troops swarmed out to divide and conquer. Drunk with rage, the bandits were scattered and surrounded. The lucky ones had a friend or two to back them up. The others stood alone against hordes of Ren's soldiers.

The ruffians fought like cornered animals. At any chance, they aimed to kill. Ren's troops energetically parried strikes and ducked follow-up stabs. Some drove back their foes with shouts of glee. Others were less fortunate. Fei Gong broke and ran for the medic's tent, his hand clamped over a bloody sleeve. Another soldier fell and was dragged off by two of his comrades.

Not trusting his aim, Ren had switched to a bladed staff. He dove through the fray, joining up with squads locked in contention against their foes. He charged to the aid of a lone soldier facing a knot of angry bandits. Ren's breath rasped in his chest, and his arms burned from the shock of absorbing blow after blow with the haft of his weapon. Yet he blocked and dodged and lashed back with practiced vigor, finding breath for a yell to lift the spirits of his weary fellows.

The miscreants slowed down as more and more staggered away from the fight. A group of soldiers fell upon one particular enemy, tackling him to the ground and binding his wrists and ankles. The remnants fled with no attempt to interfere.

Gai jerked the captive up into a kneel, and Ren met the glare of the one who had schemed to kill him. Who had sought to sever a brotherhood with a bag of coin. Who reveled in carnage and greed and strife, and would spill more blood if allowed to go free.

Ren unsheathed his hunting knife. "Surrender or die."

The captive blinked once, then spat on Ren's leg.

Bile rose in Ren's gullet as Gai pulled the prisoner’s head back, providing a clear view of the neck.

Ren pressed his blade low on the side, drawing a thin red line. The implement was honed. Death would come quickly. He could take some solace in that, small as it might be.

One last time, Ren searched the eyes of his would-be assassin.

Dead. Cold. Gone.

Ren tightened his grip and slit the prisoner's throat.

* * *

"That gang ran this town. They kept on bragging about how no one else got in on the action." Du Gai cocked his staff over one shoulder. "Looks like the action is all ours now."

Cao Ren examined the body keeled over in the moonlit meadow. "Did he have family?"

"Doubt it." Gai shrugged. "Even so, do you really think they'd miss him? If some son of mine were that much of a shit, he could go rot in a ditch for all I cared."

"Perhaps." Ren tried to imagine a relative loathsome enough to be worthy of eternal scorn. He had once threatened to disown Chun for poking too much fun at his academic ineptitude, but that was hardly equivalent. "We should at least ask around."

The innkeeper knew of no relations to the slain miscreant. Instead he launched into a seething tale of how the criminals had extorted a cut of his profits, gorged themselves on his wine, and squirreled away contraband in his stables. He clapped his hands together and called for a victory feast. Hot noodles for all, free of charge.

Soldiers overflowed the dining hall, taking their meals in the stable yards and unoccupied guest chambers. They chatted, laughed, burst into bawdy song. Even through the joyous din, a few drifted off to sleep. The servants made no move to rouse them, inviting the others to stay as well.

Too exhausted for revelry, Ren searched for an unclaimed sleeping spot. Fei Gong shared a mattress with Tianxi, the boy who had been carried off the battlefield. Tianxi's calf was bound up with a wooden splint. Gong sported a matching bandage from shoulder to elbow. Leaning on his unhurt arm, he began to stand. Ren motioned for him to sit back down.

"You're the leader," Gong protested.

"You're injured. Besides, you were here first." Ren inspected the recuperating duo. "How are you feeling?"

Gong gave a sheepish smile. "Feeling bad for falling out of the fight so quickly. But I helped with first aid." He indicated Tianxi's leg. "Yan finally got to show me how to set a broken bone."

"It was just a crack. I'll be back to business in no time." Tianxi looked down. "Well, maybe in a month or two."

“There’s no rush. Take care of yourselves.” Ren fetched a pillow and turned his eye to a corner of the room. "I should do the same.”

* * *

The soldiers woke at daybreak, taking a breakfast of gruel before heading back to the field. As they rolled up their tents and set their weapons in order, a voice called out from the clearing’s edge. A ragged crew of bandits emerged from the forest with empty hands lifted up in plain sight.

Also unarmed, Cao Ren walked over to greet them. Their clothes were torn and stained, their hollow eyes weary. One stepped forward as leader.

"We're done. We've had enough. We came to ask a favor."

The leader knelt before speaking again.

"We want to join you."


	4. Decisions

Master Pan took a slow march to the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands before addressing the students. "This is a day of great importance to you all."

Cao Ren's mind raced. He had forgotten to compose an essay - or study for a test - or perhaps master was in the mood for an impromptu writing assignment. It had been a while since he pulled that trick.

"Many years ago, you entered school with your minds akin to blank slats of bamboo. You spun the beads of the abacus as if it were a toy, and you turned the writing brush over and over in your curious hands. From this humble beginning, you built a foundation of knowledge. You learned to count, then to add, then to solve complex problems of mathematics. You learned to read, then to write, then to understand the timeless wisdom inscribed by scholars.

"As you see, you began your education as boys." The teacher made a sweeping gesture with his staff, then began to pace the room in smooth strides. "Soon you shall make your way in the world as men. Some of you have appointments to office. Some will enter the ranks of academia. Some will study in Luoyang to refine your moral character."

Chun, who had been blathering about the imperial university as of late, perked up at its mention. Ren cast a glance down at hands he had stained with the blood of a bandit leader. Hands that had cut a human life short to save others, but the teachings gave no quarter to such circumstances.

"From here forward, expect to be challenged. Nothing less will ready you for the rigors of university and career. Regardless of your paths, I expect the utmost effort from you all." Master Pan thumped the floor beside a scatterbrained student, jolting him to attention. "Tong! Kindly compose a poem for us - in the classic style, of course - about that daydream you were entertaining just now."

Ren stifled a snort as his classmate took up the brush. A longwinded lecture and an inventive punishment for those bored into slacking - master was in true form today.

* * *

A stable hand took the quiver from Cao Ren's hands as his colleague led Thunder Cloud into a stall. "Not much hunting to be done, was there?"

"You could say that."

Ren had shot a couple of pheasants to roast over the campfire, but his trip had a different purpose. His militia was expanding, picking up troops from villages around the region. Farmers’ sons took up arms, inspired by the discipline of their fellows marching in Ren’s name. Miscreants wearied of running from the law. Ren entrusted their training to subordinates, sneaking away from home for an occasional surprise tour.

Pushing both himself and his dutiful horse to their limits, Ren had visited four towns in as many days. He plodded into the house with visions of a long bath and early bedtime, leaving Thunder Cloud to contentedly nestle in the hay.

Ren sank down in the tub as the heat soothed his tired muscles. He had slept in the rain and woken at sunrise to lead the morning drills. He had labored alongside a gang of former bandits converting their old hideout into a supply shelter. He had inspected weapons, tested the marksmanship of hopeful archers, and reviewed the rules of conduct to keep them fresh and prominent. Ren’s troops had also stepped up, hunting and foraging and doing odd jobs to supplement their allowance.

This trip had been a test of leadership as well as endurance. Many new recruits had welcomed Ren with strict attention. Others had sulked and slacked off at any given chance. Most had buckled down satisfactorily. A few had carried on through the drills and drudge work until Ren banished them from service with the order to leave their uniforms behind. Smirks had faded from their faces as they slunk off in their loincloths and the others fought the urge to enjoy a good laugh at their expense.

Jade Blossom's voice cut through the steam. "Everything all right in there?"

Ren sat up with a splash, realizing he had dozed off. "It's fine. I'll be out in a moment."

"Good. We wouldn't want you to turn into a prune."

A laugh. "I don't think that's likely."

"Maybe so. But if anyone could manage that, it would be you."

A grin spread over Ren's face as he dried off and dressed himself. Nothing beat a proper welcome home.

* * *

Cao Ren lay awake, staring at the slotted splash of moonlight cast through the shutters onto the mural of mountains on his far wall. During dinner, Chun had rambled on about their upcoming year of school while Ren gave a nod here and there to prove he was paying attention. As it solidified his own plans, Chun’s excitement had stoked a growing uncertainty that refused to let Ren sleep.

Savvy about the labyrinthine government hierarchy, Chun had suggested that Ren become a junior clerk. He would track grain deliveries or tax collections or the allocation of funds, ensuring that all followed procedure. The work earned a generous salary, and it served the public well.

Still, the thought left him cold. As head of a militia, Ren went forth with his own men and his own martial skill. His results were immediate, his subjects close at hand - neither hidden beyond layers of bureaucracy that might lull him into losing touch with his concern.

Perhaps Father had faced similar questions. Their time together had been spent training rather than talking, and it was too late to change that. Yet Ren could still draw on his wisdom.

Ren slipped out of bed and padded down torchlit halls to the family shrine. He placed fresh incense in the brazier and set it aglow, breathing in its spiraling scent. Before Cao Chi’s tablet, he dropped his head in prayer.

_Father._

_May I find the understanding to follow in your footsteps, and the strength to take that path as it leads me._

* * *

An early rise, a simple breakfast, a full day at the academy evaluating students' essays. Some instructors dreaded such rigor. Master Pan reveled in its discovery. Astute pupils thought of fresh viewpoints and clever turns of phrase. Others produced clear arguments after struggling to string their thoughts together early in the year.

Yet some never learned. One scroll contained a note with the promise of gold and the signature of the student’s father. The essay may have been passable. It was now worth a failing mark and a supervised rewrite under threat of expulsion. The student might go over Master’s head regardless, greasing a higher palm. He still insisted on promoting his strict reputation, futile as it might be at times.

An assistant appeared at the office door. "Cao Ren is here to see you."

Master Pan gave an absent response as he pulled another assignment from the pile. “Send him in.”

The tap of hard-soled shoes echoed down the hall, accompanied by a soft clanking. Ren entered the room in a full suit of armor. He wore a brass helmet with a black horsehair tassel sprouting from the top. His chest was covered by a sheet of small rectangular plates, his thighs girded by padded silk sashes hanging from a wide belt. His hands were gloved, his feet clad in high leather boots. Ren bowed, then returned to his firm posture.

Master Pan pressed his lips together to ensure that his mouth was not hanging open. This was the boy who used to swagger along with no manners, no sense, no ambition other than weaseling out of his schoolwork to find more time to waste. Now he stood with chest proud and chin high, waiting for a response.

"Playing soldier, are we?"

"I'm not playing soldier. I am one. Please allow me to demonstrate."

Master Pan arose from his mat. Ren directed him to the adjoining courtyard where thirty young men stood at attention in a precise grid. Each wielded a wooden staff and wore a uniform of short robe and pants. At a hand signal from Ren, they thumped the stone pavement in unison.

"These are my men. I recruited them. I trained them to keep order in the rural areas plagued by banditry. I taught a few to lead as well."

Ren signaled again, and a trooper took three steps forward and turned to command his colleagues. The soldiers swung, thrust, guarded with agile coordination. They scattered into knots, formed a great circle, drew back into their original array. A sour taste arose in Master Pan’s mouth. These boys were trained to strike more than empty air.

"You say you keep order. Does this mean you fight?"

"Only when necessary, master."

"Why is it necessary for you to get involved?"

"The inspectors patrol the city to stop crime. The wealthy hire their own guards to keep them safe. The peasants have to look after themselves. I got involved because no one else would help them."

By the strictest interpretation of the teachings, Ren was no different from the rabble he opposed. Though more organized, he acted in the name of the law without its sanction. Yet he made a valid point about private militias, accepted protection for life and limb and property. His intent also seemed promising. Any buffoon could gather a horde of friends with the promise of mischief and easy money. Ren had inspired teenage boys to attain the bearing of imperial soldiers. Perhaps he had a nobler motivation after all.

"Very good." It was a sincere compliment, misgivings aside. "Still, I must ask why you are showing this to me."

"These past few months of classwork have been focused on our paths." Ren nodded toward his troops. "This is mine. I ask your permission to leave the academy."

This time Master Pan had quite a few words, which tangled together on the way out of his mouth. "What - why would you wish to do that? You're not stupid, you know - you've proved such to my satisfaction - you could be a clerk, a minister. So many years of scholarship - you're willing to turn your back on it all just like that?"

"It was not an easy decision, and it's not a waste of my schoolwork. I must set a strict example to be a good leader. How could I do so without the discipline I learned from you?"

In his earliest months under Master Pan's instruction, Ren had endured many a detention with the same defiance in his sullen eyes. Now he looked back on the experience as a favor. Tempted as he was to wring further deference out of the boy, the teacher preferred to enjoy a thrill of pride at this acknowledgement.

"So. In some sense, I have set you on this path. Yet I can guide you down it no further. If you choose to quit the academy, you can never return. This endeavor of yours would not sit well with the regents." Such an understatement. Those old cronies would have seen Ren flogged black and blue for his little demonstration.

A nod. "I understand."

Master Pan studied Ren in an assessment of his veracity. Some time ago, a contest of patience would have snuffed out the boy’s bravado. Ren now displayed a determination far beyond impudence, the chiseled gaze of a statue keeping its thousand-year watch. He would not be broken again.

"I trusted that you would. Will you be leaving, then?"

"Yes, master. I will." Ren bowed. "Thank you again for all you have taught me."

* * *

The march home sped by in a giddy blur. Cao Ren vaguely felt the curious stares of townspeople, merchants, a uniformed inspector doddering down the road on horseback. He brushed them off just as he had given Gai a jubilant summary of his meeting. Ren had left school on amicable terms with a letter to prove it. Now he was prepared to face his family.

A servant summoned Mother and Chun to the front yards. Their brows rose in identical shock as they got a full view of Ren and the formation behind him. As before, Ren explained himself and stood aside while Gai led the drills. He then handed over his note from Master Pan.

Chun cast a glance at Mother, deferring the initial reaction to her. When she spoke, her eyes were grave.

"That's your father's uniform. Is this how you respect his memory? By quitting your studies?"

A stable hand had unearthed the armor from storage and sent it off to be cleaned. The boots were tight on Ren's wide feet, the coat of plates loose on his still broadening torso. The belt sat securely on his hips, anchored by the weight of its sashes, and the overall effect had stunned him upon his first look in the mirror. Instead of his same old self, perhaps with a few stray hairs out of his topknot or the remnants of a scuffle about to darken into a bruise, Ren saw his endeavors coming to fruition.

"No. I respect his memory by leading men to serve the common people."

"It isn't the same." Mother nodded at the house. "Come inside. We’ll talk this over."

* * *

Cao Ren dismissed his troops and left his armor with the stable hands. Mother and Chun awaited him in her chambers, seated next to each other like two peas in a disapproving pod. There was no tea, no fruit, no other form of refreshment. Nothing but tension hanging thick in the air, a stillness that weighed on them all until Mother spoke up to break it.

"Your father had an appointment. A title. I don't see any equivalent in your future."

"I may not have a title. But I do have a career."

"As what?" Chun snapped. "Mercenary?"

"Peacekeeper."

"Same difference."

Mother shot him a look. "Hold your tongue. We're having a discussion, not an argument." She turned to Ren. "A career implies steady income. How will you earn that?"

"Just as how I support my troops. Villagers pay my men to patrol the area. They give us fruit from their orchards and fields to camp in. There's plenty of game to be hunted, too." Ren did not mention the large contribution from his own spending money, most of which had gone toward equipment.

"What if that all runs dry?"

Ren wanted to retort otherwise, but this was no time for flippancy. "I can teach archery or horsemanship. Or both. It's skilled work, is it not?"

Chun nodded. He and Ren had obtained some martial instruction from private tutors.

"I could be a hunting guide. I know the wilderness well enough. Or I could offer my protection for hire."

_Mercenary_, Chun mouthed on the sly.

If Mother caught wind of the insult, she gave no indication. "I can see you've thought this through. Still, it doesn’t seem wise."

Ren drew himself up. "What is wise, then? Watching farmers die on the road because no one would fight off the criminals who went after them? Expecting the officials to help when they don't give a damn to begin with? Maybe I'm a fool after all. But I'd rather be a fool who made a difference in the best way he could."

No one responded. Mother dropped her gaze to the table for a long moment that stole Ren's breath as it spun out in front of him. She sat up on her heels, composing herself before speaking.

"Master Pan saw fit to send you on your way with honor." She glanced at Chun, then met Ren's eyes once again. "We shall do the same."

Ren blinked back tears of gratitude, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "I will go forth with honor as well."

Mother smiled. "I know you will."


	5. Ambition

The city of Yingshang sprawled along the Huai river rather than huddling around a nondescript junction of the high roads. Its walls stood proud instead of moldering under a shroud of dismal weather. Yet its first glimpse took Cao Ren back to that country hamlet from so many months ago, eliciting the same thrill of being on the verge of greatness.

Working in secret had been a trial. There was twice daily grain porridge, foraged fruit, sparingly distributed spoils of the hunt. To some, the modest rations were a relief from near starvation back home. Ren never seemed to adjust, choking down the food to ignore its dull taste. When meat was scarce, he forced himself into fitful sleep as his stomach tried to gnaw itself into satiation.

Family support had enabled a wave of expansion. Rations became heartier, weaponry more impressive. Ren’s ranks swelled, branching out to larger towns and cities in search of greater prestige and the trials through which to earn it. He reveled in discovery and triumph, in leery eyes and brusque whispers giving way to gratitude. Yingshang, a rumored lodestone to well-connected bandit gangs, was his next leap forward.

Hu Xu had developed an aptitude for seeking recruits, sniffing out supplies, and smelling trouble before it brewed. His team had gone on excursion to scout the city. Ren was now bringing a group of his own to review their findings and plan their approach.

A scrap of fabric had been tied to a tree branch near the road. Ren took the lead down the hidden trail, noticing a burnt smell that grew pungent as he advanced. He readied his bow, and his men gripped their weapons as well. This was not the residue of a cooking fire.

Charred remains of tents littered the clearing. Staves were scattered on the ground as if abandoned before the fight began. The greenery rustled, and a figure stepped forth. Ren raised his bow before realizing that it was only Xu. The scout approached, falling to his knees with lowered eyes.

"We were ambushed. Didn't stand a chance. It happened so fast, all we could do was run."

"I understand. Are you injured?"

Xu shook his head no.

"How about the rest of your men?"

"We're hiding." Xu got to his feet and nodded toward the forest. "Follow me."

* * *

Hu Xu's fellows crept from their concealed tents as Cao Ren approached their hideout. When Ren sat with them to talk, they babbled all at once.

"They were supernatural."

"Mystics."

"Hollering about some Way of Peace."

Ren's stomach dropped. "Yellow Turbans.”

"Yeah." Xu nodded. "They had those too."

"I'm sure they did. That's how they identify themselves." Ren scratched his chin, which was covered by a beard that he had given up on shaving. The whisker itch was gone, but a new one nagged at him. "Why are they still at war?"

The others waited for Ren to explain.

"The Yellow Turbans are a religious sect. Faith healers, perhaps - something along those lines. Not so long ago, they threw a rebellion all across the north. It took the Empire a year to defeat them. One of my relatives fought in that war." A commander by profession, cousin Cao Cao had led imperial forces to victory in the counter campaign. His exploits had spread throughout the family in letters Ren caught up with on his rare visits home.

"Their leaders were killed, and the rebellion stopped soon after. Maybe these Turbans are merely displaced." Ren's voice was grim. "Or maybe they're getting ready for another go."

"So they're more than bandits," Xu said.

Ren nodded. "In a sense, yes. Underneath, they're all the same. They spread disorder and win by fear. The difference is that the Turbans formed an army of their own. They had more numbers, better organization, and a mastery of intimidation."

"And magic," someone volunteered.

Ren shook his head. "I doubt that."

"Easy for you to say when you weren't there to see it. I'm telling you. They were shooting fire out of their sleeves."

The eyes of Xu's soldiers showed the same distress Cao Cao had noted in his reports from the front. Imperial troops had broken formation and fled, howling about dust clouds and flash floods and shadowed figures pouring from the bowels of the storm. The rumors of sorcery had grown teeth as the war dragged on, as if the Turbans’ zeal had brainwashed their opponents as well. By all indication, Xu’s camp had been torched. Yet half his men were convinced the Turbans had conjured flame with their very hands.

Xu spoke up, breaking the tension. "So are we leaving?"

"No." Ren fixed the group with a firm gaze. "We're fighting back."

* * *

A faint trail headed north from the burnt clearing, hastily beaten by fleeing Yellow Turbans. Still wary from the attack, Hu Xu had not pursued it. As he moved the camp to a safer location, Cao Ren led an elite archer squad into the woods.

They crept single file as the path faded into dense greenery and encroaching brambles. The trees thinned, revealing a garrison perched on a distant hill. Spiked barricades surrounded the fort, and yellow flags flew from its high walls.

Ren smiled. Soon his own would replace them.

* * *

Hu Xu and his men had camped near a busy mail post down the high road. They had salvaged some tents, and soldiers busied themselves sewing patches over the worst holes. Cao Ren's banner flew high in the center of their circle, a stalwart mark of pride. Though beaten once, his force refused to run scared.

It only lacked in troops. The fortress could easily hold fifty men. Ren and Xu had as many between the two of them.

As evening fell, a throng of young men moved into the meadow. Their leader, a lanky fellow with a cocksure gaze, swaggered over to Ren’s settlement. "Since we're sleeping in this same field, I'd say we ought to get to know each other." He gave a sharp nod. "Call me Lifeng."

A bow in response. "Cao Ren."

"So you're leading soldiers. As am I. Can I ask what for?"

"I'm a peacekeeper. I patrol villages, put a stop to banditry."

"Peacekeeper." Lifeng laughed. "Strange name for a guy who goes out to fight."

"Come on now. You understand why it's necessary."

"Of course. Just making a joke, that's all." Lifeng clapped Ren on the shoulder. "I'm right there with you. We wiped out a whole nest of criminals on our way over here. Grabbed all the coin and wine we could carry. Best haul we've had in a while."

"Where did this happen?"

Lifeng jerked his head toward the south. "Some pisshole of a village back there. Bandits took it over, turned it into a fort. Built a wall around it and everything. Clever bastards - and a whole lot of them, too. They put up one hell of a fight, but they were no match for us."

"How were their numbers compared to yours?"

"I've got about twenty. They had three times that, maybe more. It's hard to count the hordes when they're running away from you." Lifeng shrugged. "But you can count the bodies, and there were plenty of those to go around."

That last line stuck with Ren as Lifeng continued to boast about his victory. His men showed impressive flexibility, but the glint in his eye was unsettling. Ren had killed, but never enough to measure the strength of an opposing force. Then again, it had been one hell of a fight.

Ren swallowed his unease, focusing on common ground instead of that offhand remark. Lifeng had similar ambition, and his troops could dominate much greater numbers. It would take days for Ren to bring in more of his own.

Their conversation ended with an invitation to dinner at Lifeng's camp, where the flasks were being passed with great enthusiasm. Ren had last enjoyed wine on a distant trip home, and its spice brought a welcome warmth to his stomach. He savored a few long sips before setting the flask aside.

"Drink up, why don't you?" Lifeng raised his flask. "It's all on me."

"I've had my fill, thanks."

"What, you can't hold your liquor? That's a shame."

"No, it's not that." While on patrol, Ren felt most secure with a sense of discipline, subtle as it might be. Even now, he knelt while Lifeng sprawled on the ground.

"Your loss."

Discovering that his flask was dry, Lifeng left momentarily to fetch a refill. "You know, I never asked. Who are you out here to fight?"

"Yellow Turbans. They ambushed my scouts and left a trail behind. I marked a path to their hideout."

"Turbans, eh?" A sly grin spread over Lifeng's face. "I'd say we can help you out with that."

"I was about to ask you the same."

* * *

Cao Ren and his men awoke at first light. They performed their drills, ate breakfast, and took a brisk bath in the nearby creek. Ren scratched a map of the fortress hill in a patch of dirt, waving Hu Xu over to discuss their approach. The rest might be a blank, but a strong start was crucial.

The sun grew bright, rousing Lifeng from his tent. His fellows stumbled out after him as he wandered over with a yawn. "When did you get up?"

"Daybreak."

"That's early."

"That's usual." Ren found it difficult to sleep later, even when resting at home. "Anyhow. Are you awake enough to talk plans?"

Lifeng stretched his arms, bounced on his toes. "All set." He stopped. "Wait. We need a plan?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Run in, let loose. Scare the enemy before they scare you. That's all the plan I've ever needed."

"And then what?"

"Whatever works, of course."

"What if it doesn't?"

"That's never been a problem." Lifeng smirked. "I trust my men to know what to do."

"As do I.” Ren’s voice tightened. “And they trust me not to gamble with their lives."

"Bullshit. We both do that, and you know it."

"A good plan is a calculated bet. A hasty attack - a fool's wager."

Lifeng glared. "You're calling me a fool?"

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"Oh, I do." Lifeng cast his gaze to a mock duel between two of his soldiers. The men jabbed and dodged and parried with blinding speed, and the winning blow was a blur to Ren's eye. "I know my men, and I know their abilities. You really think I get in over my head for fun?"

Ren thought just that, but he bit his tongue. "I think you're about as set in your ways as I am."

An amused snort. "Can't argue there."

"But I’d say we can come to an agreement. You lead your men, and I'll lead mine. Trust me with the overall scheme, and I'll trust you with the details."

"Sounds fair to me."

"Good." Ren smiled. "Then we'll make a fine team."

* * *

Lifeng's mouth curled into a grin as the Yellow Turban fortress came into view. "So that's the prize."

Cao Ren nodded. "That's our target, yes."

"You know the deal, chief. Just give us the signal."

Lifeng had been addressing Ren with some variant of that title since their initial agreement. Unsure whether it was complimentary or condescending, Ren saw it as some of both. They had their differences. Lifeng's men regularly slept until lunch hour. They trained in duels begun with taunting and finished with whoops of celebration. They had stripped to the waist for this raid, painting stripes onto their rangy torsos. _You see, boss, we don't get hit._

Ren had no intention of being injured, but that was beside the point. His concern was preparation, which Lifeng shrugged off like the wine he guzzled each night. Ren had fought temptation to lecture the mercenaries, seeing enough of himself in them to know it would be futile. Despite his concern for their safety, it was not his place to interfere.

Lifeng and his fellows waited in a loose knot with short swords on their belts and rope ladders in hand. Ren's soldiers stood nearby to back them. Ren faced the fortress, then raised his flag high. A great downward swoop, and the mercenaries were off and running.

Lifeng’s men assaulted the stronghold with systemic elegance. They threw ladders over the walls in a neat line, flowing up and over before the watchtower lookouts could react. An archer was shoved out of the fort to a hard landing on the scrubby earth. Clutching his arm, he staggered off into the hills. Ren wondered if the assailant had been aiming for the spikes instead.

Ren and his crew raced forth in the wake of the initial shock, clambering into the fortress and dropping down into the ruckus. As planned, the mercenaries were wresting control of the eastern gate. Already reeling from the assault, the guards began to buckle once Ren joined the melee. The gate was soon forced open, and the rest of the troops charged in. They advanced as a living wall, pressing the Turbans back to escape through the opposite exit.

The enemy was not so easily persuaded. They threw rocks and animal bones and any other debris on hand, and they cried out in the name of the Heaven that riled them to raise hell. Ren kept a strict focus on the zealots in front of him, barely flinching when a stone bounced off his helmet. A moment later, he realized it had just missed his eye.

Step by patient step, Ren's troops gained ground as the din of the crowd began to die down. The far gate sneaked open, showing a sliver of landscape before slamming shut. And again and again, longer and longer each time. Ren let forth a resounding battle cry, and his men forged onward with renewed vigor. The enemy was on the run.

The spirit drained from the remaining Turbans as their fellows trickled out of the fort. Their leaders banded together for one last stand, but Ren's elite guard put a quick end to it. The captives knelt with tall shoulders and impenetrable expressions. Ren lowered his own weapon before approaching them.

"Greetings. I am Cao Ren, leader of these troops."

Silence.

"You fight for the commoners." Ren indicated a group of soldiers who had lined up behind him. "So do we. They need stability, not mayhem."

The head Turban’s voice was tinged with venom. “Stability is granted by the will of Heaven. It has been revealed to us, and most clearly not to you.”

"I don't claim Heaven’s will. I simply claim to serve the people as well as I can."

"The people are suffering under the ills of the Empire. That beast is dying. We will end its misery. If you truly care, then you will join our cause."

"That's not an option I wish to take."

"I see." A glare, cold and flat as steel. "Then may the wrath of Heaven incinerate you to dust."

Ren brought out his blade, and the guardsman did the same. The leaders accepted their fate with dignity, holding heads high as their throats were slashed. Bandits were petty opportunists who could be swayed by a sustainable alternative. These Turbans drew a hard line between themselves and heathens - friends and foes - championed and challenged, respectively, with a fanaticism only vanquished by death.

"Well played, boss. Nice and clean." Lifeng popped up, flicking a thumb back over his shoulder. "We caught a load of them ourselves. Want to do the honors?"

The load in question was a team of twenty soldiers in simple cloth uniforms. Their hands were empty, their foreheads touched to the earth in supplication. Lifeng poked one in the back of the neck with his staff, eliciting a shiver. "Pigs for the slaughter."

A weight formed in Ren's stomach. "Did they refuse surrender?"

"Was I supposed to ask?"

Ren indicated the slain leaders. "I gave them that choice." He offered the same to Lifeng's prisoners, introducing himself and his cause.

The Turban soldiers replied agreeably, voices muffled by the ground. Ren allowed the captives up into a kneel before speaking to them again.

“Do you renounce allegiance to your former Turban leaders?”

They responded as a group. "We do."

"Will you serve under my banner, alongside myself and these men?"

“We will.”

"Very good." Ren motioned for the soldiers to stand. "Help the rest of us clean this place up and repair the gates. Afterward, tell me all you can about your old comrades."

The former Turbans bowed deeply, heads to the ground once more, before Hu Xu took over with task assignments. Lifeng pulled Ren aside, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Why didn't you let me kill them?"

"That's not how I work."

"Then what is? Babying any old riffraff too chickenshit to take what's coming to them?"

"I was riffraff myself. So were some of my best men. If you had known me some time ago, you'd have never guessed me for a leader."

"I'm not sure I do now."

Ren bit back a snide response. "I believe I've demonstrated my abilities."

"So did I, and you said you'd trust me with the details. And guess what. You just went back on your word."

"No." Ren met Lifeng's glower head on. "I trusted you with details that fit the plan. Senseless killing was never part of this campaign."

"Senseless?" Lifeng laughed. "What hole did you crawl out of? Bad seeds have this habit of popping back up. Better to burn them where they stand."

"Better to see if they'll grow."

"Oh, they will. But not at all like you want them to."

Ren glanced over at an ex-bandit writing an inventory of the supplies in storage. "You might be surprised."

Lifeng raised a wary brow. "I'd say the same to you."

* * *

Life at Yingshang proceeded smoothly. The stronghold was reinforced, its walls topped with sharpened logs. Soldiers made jerky to supplement the existing grain reserves. Weapons were bought, constructed, maintained. With fresh information from the recruits, Hu Xu resumed his surveys. He learned that many of the Turbans had fled, and the rest had scattered into small camps. Without their base and their leadership, they were ill equipped for trouble.

They still made themselves a nuisance, regrouping for a disorganized counterattack at the fortress. Ren's troops pushed over their hastily built ladders and unleashed volleys of arrows at the squads attempting to break through the gates. Lifeng led a noisy rush into the fray before the archers could hold their fire. He and his mercenaries returned unscathed, scoffing at Ren's resultant annoyance. _Told you we don't get hit._

Lifeng had stopped addressing Ren with some title of superiority, sarcastic or otherwise. Ren let it go. Though they shared a fort and a common enemy, an invisible wall had grown between them. They still showed solidarity in front of their men, collaborating in tenuous silence when their duties brought them together.

Once they took the evening watch when the Turban recruits were praying in the nearby forest. Ren had brought a snack of wild berries, which they ate one by one as if to avoid taking more than their exact half.

Lifeng spat as the chanting arose from the trees. "There they go again."

Ren plucked another berry out of the bag, hoping his refusal to respond would bore Lifeng into the same. The former Turbans had proven their allegiance during the fort defense, and he rewarded them with permission to worship. Though some of Ren’s men remained wary, they all let it go, accepting his authority even if they did not understand his reasoning. Lifeng saw discourse as a sparring match to be dragged into the dirt and won at any cost. Ren had little patience for such useless bickering.

"If it were up to me, I'd smack that hot air right out of them."

"Would you do the same to my shrine?" Ren kept the essentials in miniature - a simple brass bowl, a palm-sized tablet for his father - along with a polished stone from the creek where he had learned to swim as a boy. They occupied a corner of his tent, laid out on a square of brocade.

"Maybe." Lifeng tossed a berry into his mouth. "Same shit, different flavors. At least that's how I see it."

Ren bristled. "I see it as something that brings comfort. I can't find any harm in that."

"You don't think it makes you soft? Weak? Tough to believe a hardass like you is into that."

"For me, it's a reminder of home.”

"Home." Lifeng gave a dismissive laugh. "Never had one of those, either. What's the use of it, anyway? Just one more rope to tie you down."

Ren saw no purpose in explaining. He took pride in his orderly settlements, missed the warm splendor of his family estate. Lifeng seemed born to drift wherever he saw fit, chasing the scent of wine and plunder. The promise of more action was about all that kept him around.

If only such promise could be broken.

* * *

Hu Xu had been born into a family of sneaks. His eldest brother roamed Qiaocheng city after nightfall, pilfering gilded charms from the belts of drunken bureaucrats. Another ripped off their greedy landholder, shorting the grain payments in cautious and unnoticeable increments. Xu had a talent for overhearing information meant for other audiences. His keen ears served well for scouting, and they had saved his hide on multiple occasions. Catching whispers of a servant’s price on his head, Xu had slipped as secretly into the night.

Xu now slipped through a village nestled in the hills near Yingshang. The locals took little notice of him, going about their business with reserved industry. Growing up, Xu had resented his unremarkable appearance. He lacked the swagger of his older brothers, their easy manner and glint of eye distracting the neighbor's daughters from their chores. Xu had come to realize that invisibility had its advantages, especially in such strange territory.

Which it was, and for reasons apart from unfamiliarity. The town was surrounded with high earthen walls although its buildings were plain as any others dotting the rural outskirts. There were no gangs of idle young men looking for work, none of the grumbles about highway robbery floating around the streets of Yingshang. Though the townsfolk paid Xu no heed, he felt a constant gaze on the back of his head.

Too exposed for his comfort, Xu bought lodgings at the local inn. He selected a room facing the main road and sat down with a careful eye to the shutters. People milled about with an elusive sense of unease, ducks afloat on a deep and stagnant pond. Xu’s patience began to fray as he strained to peer beneath the surface.

Xu allowed his eyes to close as the sunlight mellowed into evening. After nightfall, the clop of hooves jolted him awake. A carriage had stopped to let off a group of well-dressed men. Their sleeves and skirts were wide, their waists adorned by heavy strings of carved jade ornaments gleaming in the light of the carriage lanterns. Twin scabbards were tucked into each traveler’s sash. Dual daggers, undoubtedly wielded with expertise.

Xu could make no sense of the murmured talk outside. When the travelers thudded past his chamber, he caught an offhand remark about desperate need for a drink. Xu's heart quickened. Alcohol raised voices and sent caution to the wind, producing scraps of rumor to stitch together into useful information. When those footsteps headed back down the corridor, Xu counted off a patient interval before following them.

The inn's tavern was dim and quiet. Lone patrons sat here and there, and the travelers occupied a large table tucked in a dark corner. There were no adjacent windows, no nearby mats with an inconspicuous empty spot. Xu bought a dinner tray from the taciturn innkeeper and sat to observe the men with a sidelong glance.

They gambled with gaudy flair, trading stacks of coin and trinkets around the table. The innkeeper joined them for a few rounds before quitting with a laugh and his empty hands thrown up in defeat. The men's voices became raucous, fueled by wine flasks brought to their table in armloads. They traded verses about roadside brawls and loose women, each boorish tale outdoing the last. Their words were stony with confidence beneath the bombast of liquor, as if coming from personal experience. Though no stranger to vulgarity, Xu soon had more than his fill.

Sleep came late, thin, and interrupted by every creak of the shutters. Even so, Xu was wide awake before breakfast. He ate his gruel and sipped his tea, barely tasting either as he watched the innkeeper tidy up the otherwise empty tavern. Xu was blunt and direct, better at listening between the lines than at speaking between them himself. He had to risk other means of softening an inquiry.

Xu approached the counter, catching the innkeeper's eye. He laid a coin on the scarred wooden surface. "Who were those men that came in last night?"

The proprietor turned his back, continuing to sort dishware onto the shelves.

A heavier coin, clinked against the first. "The gamblers."

The innkeeper pricked up his ears.

Xu heaped a handful of money on the counter. "Those gamblers."

A flat glance from the corner of the man's eye. "No one you need to know about."

Inwardly wincing, Xu emptied his pouch of next month's scouting allowance. "And what if I do?"

The innkeeper faced him at last, his eyes narrowed to slivers of ice. He wordlessly swept the money into some hidden receptacle. "Here's a tip."

Xu found himself unable to breathe as the man brought a knife in front of his face. The blade whipped down in a dread flash, a finger's breadth from its target.

"Stick that long nose of yours elsewhere before someone cuts it off."

Xu held the innkeeper's glare as he backed away. Only in the streets did he turn and run.

* * *

The same untold story hid in every local village. Heads turned away from visitors as ears perked up to track them. Rings adorned the hands of laborers, and young girls toddled around in enough beaded necklaces to choke a courtesan. Affluent men traveled through in packs, their blades prominent at the hip.

Small wonder bandits ran rampant around here. They had bought the commoners' loyalty. Cao Ren had dealt with hostile territory in isolation, settlements and outposts turned to his favor. With the entire Yingshang periphery sheltering criminals, he saw no way forward.

One evening, Hu Xu approached Ren as he sat alone near the stronghold. "Any ideas?"

"If I had one, I'd have told you by now." The reply was spoken more snappishly than he intended. "Sorry. I should keep my irritation to myself."

“You should talk about it. Quit acting like nothing’s wrong. You haven't been in your right mind lately."

"I suppose not. I'm at a loss." Ren stared off into the setting sun. "What am I to do? I can't match their bribes, and I can't win by force. I'd need numbers, and I don't see how to get them. Perhaps I'll find a few, but that's not nearly enough." Those few would have to be tracked down at great risk to Ren's scouts - too high a price for a futile campaign.

"You know what I'd say. No shame in leaving."

Lifeng appeared. "Sure there is."

Ren glared at him. "Weren't you about to move on yourself?"

"I heard talk of bandits. That means I'm staying. But anyway." Lifeng plopped down next to them. "You came all the way out here, you set yourself up in this fort, and now what? You're giving up already?" He shook his head. "What a waste."

"It would be a bigger waste to try anything." Xu shot him a look. "Didn't you catch that part while you were nosing around just now?"

"Oh, I did. I still don't buy it." Lifeng turned to Ren. "You play it too safe, you know."

"Is that a problem?"

"When it keeps you from getting anything done? I'd say so."

"I'd say it's senseless to get my men killed when we have no hope of overwhelming the enemy."

"With that attitude?" A snort. "I guess you're right. I don't see much hope for you."

Lifeng jumped to his feet and sauntered away, leaving Xu and Ren to their silence.

* * *

Lifeng lived for conquest. He taunted his sparring partners until they gang rushed him in an attempt to wipe the grin off his face. He dreamed of destroying hordes that no other would dare to challenge. He came alive in the thick of the fight, riding his instincts along the knife edge between victory and demise.

The Turban fortress takeover had been a petty scuffle. One little surprise attack, and the swine had buckled like any bully getting his deserved punch in the mouth. Lifeng could not sneak up on the local bandit gangs, but he would give them enough of a shock. And if they were too much for Cao Ren - his loss, Lifeng's gain. No nerve, no glory, nothing to show for the trip. At least one of them had the sense to strike at a prime opportunity.

The mercenaries left after late watch, making their way by moonlight. They bedded down near the first town they saw and enjoyed a nap until midmorning. The settlement was small. They hardly cared. If the talk was true, this place would be as good as any other.

Lifeng marched into the quiet village with a couple of associates tailing him. He entered the ramshackle tavern alone. Just him and the barkeep, just two men about to have a chat. Lifeng walked up to the counter, receiving a disinterested stare of inquiry in return.

"Tell me who's in charge around here." Lifeng fixed the man's eyes with his own. "Then tell me when they'll be back."

"It's my tavern. Should be obvious that I'm in here right now."

"It's not really yours, is it?"

The barkeep tilted his head as if the question meant nothing. His guarded gaze said otherwise.

"You get paid, don't you?" Key word emphasized.

"People bring me money. I cook them food. That's business and all.” The barkeep narrowed his eyes. “What, you think I give handouts?"

"No. But I know you get them."

"Sounds to me like you don't know your head from your own ass."

"Bribes. Blood money. Maybe you have some regular customers. Rich men, well off. Maybe they have some plans they like to discuss while you turn a deaf ear. Or maybe they come to you with their problems. The type of problems that would get them flogged half to death - or even executed. And maybe you have a way to take care of all that. For the right price, of course." Lifeng raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of conclusion. "That's business and all."

"That's more like a guessing game, and I don't have time for such horseshit." The barkeep leaned over the counter, nearly nose to nose with Lifeng. "Now either pay up or get out."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what you're hiding."

"I've got nothing to hide." The barkeep jerked a nod at the storage area. "You want to see for yourself? Fine. Be my guest."

Lifeng jumped the counter to take him up on the offer. Wine barrels lined one side of the room, and clay jars in various sizes were stacked wherever they fit. Even in the low light from the window slits, a few looked too clean for being buried in dank and dusty crannies.

The air tensed behind Lifeng as he reached to unearth a particular vessel. He ducked and spun, and the barkeep's swung plank smashed harmlessly into a jar. The whole stack crashed down into a pile of pickles and pottery shards as the man reared up for another blow. His swing was wild, and Lifeng took him down with the force of his own momentum. Lifeng planted a heel in the barkeep's back and used his free leg to kick over the suspicious jar. Its lid fell off, spilling a stream of gold and trinkets across the packed dirt floor.

Lifeng straddled the barkeep, pulling his head up with a tight twist of the topknot. He unsheathed his dagger and pressed it to the man's windpipe. Their talk was over. The weapon would speak for itself.

One strained word. "Afternoon."

The blade sliced across the barkeep’s throat, releasing a pool of blood to join the litter on the ground.

* * *

The mercenaries lounged in plain view, basking in the curious gazes of passersby. They waited as the glaring midday sun deepened to a brilliant gold, as their great and lurking anticipation settled into a keen sense of awareness.

The rhythm of hooves approached from the high road. An ostentatious carriage rolled into town, guided by a driver with a face of stone and a hard gaze to match. His eyes flicked over the mercenaries with piercing certainty, and he let his passengers out before riding off to tether the horses.

Six men had stepped out of the carriage, pulling out knives as they spread into a loose knot. Their heads were covered with tied scarves, and their fine robes flared just enough to show off without impeding movement.

A similar handful of fellows had waited with Lifeng in the village. The rest were hiding outside. With such an advantage in numbers, this introduction would take longer than the skirmish itself. Lifeng savored his growing excitement as the mercenaries squared off in kind. No words needed to be spoken. All here were fluent in the language of duels.

Before the bandits' arrival, town had been empty to the point of apparent desertion. Villagers began to emerge, creeping toward the standoff. Each wielded a scythe or a stick or some other improvised weapon. A young woman carried an apron full of rocks, which she deposited on the ground nearby.

One of those rocks nailed Lifeng in the arm. A follow-up shot grazed him, and he knew the first had not been a misfire.

An ill feeling began to rise. Lifeng forced it down with simple logic. If the villagers helped criminals, they were criminals themselves - exactly who he had come to destroy.

Lifeng rushed forward with his usual yell, and the world became a blur of blades and cacophony.

* * *

  


The battle roared on as day darkened into evening. More mercenaries had dashed in to help. So had wave after wave of bandits and commoners alike. At the outset, Lifeng had whirled and sliced with his usual speed. Veteran criminals fell to his knives, as did townspeople throwing themselves in his direction. The trained fighters were a welcome challenge, the rest fodder who signaled each clumsy strike.

As the enemy poured forth, Lifeng suspected he was the one flailing to stay afloat. He began to lose those signals, eating blows that should have easily missed. He gritted his teeth, enraged at himself for such weakness. Doubt led to hesitation. Hesitation meant death. Damned if he would show the fear pooling in his stomach..

With a furious cry, Lifeng plunged onward into the enemy mob. When his left arm went numb from a hit to the shoulder, he forced the other into double duty. And when his knee buckled under a muscle cramp, he feigned a crouch to taunt the encroaching hordes. His name floated through the din, bellowed by a familiar voice. Lifeng decided it was his own, mentally demanding those reserves of strength that had to be hiding somewhere. Just had to be, though his shoulders pitched forward and his weapons dragged with sudden weight.

A curtain of arrows whipped past, crumpling Lifeng's assailants. Another coordinated volley drove them further back. Once again, Lifeng's name echoed within the crowd. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that it had not been imagined.

More arrows were fired. More men fell. Arms grasped Lifeng from behind, hauling him onto Cao Ren's back. His mouth opened to demand a return to the fight, but it closed without comment as his battle fervor ebbed away. Lifeng's muscles were exhausted, his torso sore from the impact of untold strikes. His head rang from hurled stones that he had been unable to dodge. Gashes burned all over his body, painfully sticking to his sweat-sodden clothing.

Nothing was said between them on the way back to the fort. Ren's ragged breathing left no room to talk, and words eluded Lifeng as he drifted in and out of coherence. He habitually took the first shot and had the last word. This time around, none of that seemed to fit.

The medics took charge of Lifeng, barely giving Ren time to set him down. Ren knelt nearby as the bandages and needles were put to work. After a month in close quarters, the man remained a mystery. He rarely drank or feasted, and he abhorred the joys of looting. His troops adhered to rules that would have sent the mercenaries into violent rebellion. Yet they all appeared content as any of Lifeng's fellows, who lived for a freedom that Ren never seemed to understand.

Lifeng glanced over the broad hewed face that rarely cracked an expression in his presence. What he saw there led him to look again. Ren's eyes were wide and somber, his mouth set in a soft frown. Lifeng had wondered why soldiers followed Ren with such devotion, why he had come to the rescue when their collaboration was long since over. Meeting that thoughtful gaze, he had no need to ask. Just one phrase, left unspoken in his weariness.

_Thanks, chief._

* * *

Cao Ren had paid little mind to Lifeng's departure, figuring that yesterday's last words were about his style of farewell. He was playing a board game with Hu Xu when a mercenary dashed into the fort, nearly tripping over them both. The fellow threw himself on the ground, gawping like a fish until Ren put two firm hands on his shoulders and ordered him to calm down. He swallowed, then managed to fit words between his gasps for air.

_Village. Bloodbath. First that way._

Ren gathered his men and took off, leaving a small group behind to keep watch. He had no concerns about who had struck first, who could be blamed. People were dying to the mayhem he swore to destroy, and thus he would end it.

He heard the ruckus well before it came into view. The small town was bursting at its walls with miscreants and locals who had swarmed in to defend it. Though the mercenaries had largely retreated, the battle roiled on with bitter fury. Ren and his soldiers charged forth, wresting rifts in the hordes so the others could escape. Some distance away, a warrior bobbed and weaved with distinct fluidity.

Ren spurred his fellows forward as Lifeng ignored his shouts to fall back. When he went down, they readied their bows.

The first volley opened a breath of air. The next, a narrow path. The crowd parted momentarily, framing Lifeng in stark tableau. His back was slumped, his stance lopsided, his right arm cocked to strike as the left hung listless. A round of cover fire, then another, and Ren rushed in for the rescue.

Lifeng had the quick leanness of a weasel, but he felt like a stout sack of grain after several _li_ on Ren's back. Ren paid his respects, then left the medics to their expertise. They would close the wounds with ease, but worse hid beneath the surface. Lifeng's eyes were glazed, his skin cast with a strange pallor. Though he hissed with pain at every stitch of the needle, his reactions were reflexive. His fire had burned out, and no manner of potions or poultices would bring it back.

When Ren awoke the next day, the mercenaries’ lowered heads spoke for themselves.

* * *

Cao Ren had no white garb of mourning, no recollection of the funeral rites that had been performed for his father. He paid no mind. Lifeng would have preferred this, buried without fuss or ceremony like any other fallen soldier. The mercenaries helped put him to rest, looking on with approval during the few appropriate niceties. Ren washed Lifeng's body, dressed him in a clean uniform, and slipped a coin under his tongue after lowering him into the ground. Lifeng might have laughed at the notion of preparing for the afterlife, but he would appreciate a token piece of his loot.

The evening meal was cooked and eaten in silence. Ren refused his share, kneeling before his shrine until the night birds awoke and the incense burned away to embers. At daybreak, everyone packed up to leave. The mercenaries headed east while the others marched back north. Hu Xu and his men would be joining up with other friendly settlements. Ren was going home.


	6. Homecoming

The road home from Luoyang was a languid stretch of overcast skies, plain scenery, and minimal stopovers. A long span of nothing, a reprieve from the formalities that had ruled Cao Chun's life for the past several months. Staring out the window in a comfortable slouch, Chun managed to forget the pile of documents awaiting him upon return.

Academy work had been leisure time compared to the rigors of imperial university. Chun wrote essay upon essay, choosing his words with ever improving precision. Full passages of text hung on his walls to memorized by sheer force of familiarity. He crawled into bed exhausted, his mind tangled into a hopeless knot, and crawled out the next morning to drag himself up the proverbial hill yet again.

Chun had just found his stride when a letter summoned him for an examination. He stood alone before a panel of regents, grilled about proceedings and etiquette and Confucian lore from morning until midday. Chun dredged up every obscure detail he could muster, keeping a tenuous hold on his confidence throughout the dour inscrutability of his superiors. A recess, and he was called back in for the verdict.

_You are to leave university in three days' time._

Chun had fallen behind after all. He blinked back tears as the head regent continued to speak.

_You are then to serve the emperor as Junior Attendant at the Yellow Gates._

Chun's eyes welled up again as he bowed with the depth of his gratitude. The prestige of the imperial court. The legacy of his wise and hardworking father. The focus of his ambition from those first school days onward, achieved ahead of schedule. He had made it.

He had arrived.

The walls of Qiaocheng approached. Chun's carriage rolled through the west gate, then past the market square where he would pretend no relation to Ren and cousin Hong when their disputes over snacks turned to wrestling. Then it came to a halt, met by the ageless dignity of the guardian lions. As per his boyhood habits, Chun whispered a greeting as he entered the gardens.

A lone man waited among the pink and white spring blossoms, burly and bearded and bronzed by the sun. They shared a stiff bow, two of a kind with their uncovered topknots and subtly adorned robes of crisp blue silk. Season after season apart, now a few steps between them - which, in that moment, were distant as the imperial palace. They took each other in with uncertainty.

Cao Ren's face split into a grin, and he reached out to crush Chun in a hug. "Welcome home, brother."

* * *

Cao Chun had fallen out of touch with Ren when they went their separate ways. Mother's letters mentioned that he was looking hale and doing well for himself, and she likely passed along a similar word when brother stopped by for a visit. Yet Chun had none of his own thoughts to add, even after making his eventual peace with Ren's decision. He drew a hesitant blank at the notion of picking up the writing brush as if no rift had separated them in the first place.

Ren clearly wanted to do just that. Even so, a wall remained between them as they sat down to dinner. They exchanged some stilted pleasantries before Mother asked about work in the capital.

"It's much like university, though with more to remember and explain to others. That last part doesn't always go so well."

"What's worse?" Mother asked. "The material, or those you're trying to get it across to?"

"It's difficult to say." Chun took a spoonful of soup. "Lately, I've been handling tax reports, which are long lists of numbers and not much else. They're dull enough to write, let alone to discuss in a meeting. And some of my colleagues are just about useless. I ask for input and get a blank face. I help them rework a rough draft, and they expect me to write their next one from scratch."

Ren quirked a sympathetic brow. "That's about what I used to put you through with my school assignments."

"You weren't quite that bad, and neither is my appointment. Sure, it involves some drudgery. But doesn't anything?" Chun gestured with his free hand, expressing grandeur as he found the words to explain it. "I'm part of a great and efficient structure, and every contribution makes a difference. Each ledger I copy, each report I write, is one more piece of knowledge that keeps the system running. With good records, we have a clear picture of our progress. With that, we ensure the Empire continues to serve its people."

Mother piped up. "How about that banquet you attended?"

"The palace architecture was incredible. The rest, not so much." Chun paused as the maidservant refilled his tea. "We usher the guests in, then escort them out afterward. There's nothing to do but mind your manners down to the pickiest detail. I spent the evening with my back to the wall and five exact paces between the fellows on either side."

"Sounds tiresome," Ren said.

"It was. I only had a look at the palace in passing. The hall is rich with tapestries and gilded carvings, every sort of bird and creature you can imagine. I couldn't see much of any around the pillar in front of me. And you remember how you enjoyed that coursework on the etiquette of greeting officials."

Ren snorted. "About as much as a kick to the nether regions."

A laugh. "My point exactly. The fancier the cap and the wider the sleeves, the more prestigious the man. You have about the blink of an eye to know just how prestigious he is. A step too far back, a gaze too high, and you may as well have spit in his face."

"Thus why master was so keen to beat that into our heads. Imagine going to the capital without knowing the code." Ren shook his head. "It’s just like those secret words we came up with as children."

Chun nodded agreement. Previously, he would have dismissed Ren’s comment as disrespectful. Chun had absorbed every nuance of ministerial behavior, molding his manners accordingly. The novelty soon wore off, especially as colleagues put on a show of compliance while slacking on their work, and Chun came to decide that minutiae were no basis for judgment. Ren still stabbed his food and piled on the pickles, and he had plopped down in a crouch instead of taking a smooth descent to the exact center of his mat. Yet he sat with his own poise, a utilitarian control. Chun had once suspected that Ren faked it long enough to get his freedom. He had since realized that brother was growing into himself, ironic as it might be to learn discipline down a path of arguable disorder.

"Did you at least see the emperor?" Mother asked.

"In the most basic sense. He was guarded by rows of attendants on a canopied dais at the other end of the hall. I caught a few glimpses, but nothing more." Emperor Ling's robes surrounded him in thick drapes of brocade, and his face was concealed behind the beaded curtain of his flat-topped hat. Meek amid his finery, he seemed more a decoration than the embodiment of Heaven's might. "I certainly had no chance to speak with him."

"Well, I wouldn't have expected that much."

"Neither would I. Even so, I thought I could at least pay my respects. Apparently, I have a while to go before earning that privilege."

"I'm sure you'll earn it sooner rather than later."

"I hope so." Several layers of bureaucracy separated Chun from the man for whom he was sworn to speak. At times he seemed to be gazing up at a peak obscured by the clouds. Few knew what fortune it held, and the mountain was loath to reveal its secrets.

That thought loomed over Chun as they continued to chat about life in Luoyang and why it left him no time to seek out prospects for marriage. Eventually he shoved it aside. Work belonged where he had left it. Home was for family, and a greater precipice stood before him here.

"Brother."

Ren turned his head.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

A smile. "I was about to ask you the same."

* * *

They met up in the yard for an afternoon of archery. No scores were kept, no challenges proposed, and few words were said. They communicated in an unhurried rhythm of bowstring snaps and the distant percussion of arrows hitting home.

Cao Ren spoke up after Chun peppered the target's center with a series of skillful shots. "You shoot well."

"As do you." Chun moved aside for Ren to take his turn. "As you always have."

Chun had always been the genteel one, from his mellow voice and mannerisms to his knack for proper behavior. He seemed to invent etiquette in the instinctual way that Ren found means to break it. Chun's former stumbles at archery involved a trepidation that he had since overcome. His technique had sharpened, and his accuracy reflected it. With some envy at Chun's elegant draw, Ren noted that he was still the better marksman. Then inwardly kicked himself over the thought, as this was no time for old insecurities.

"Are you content, brother?"

After their tense farewell and months of silence thereafter, such a question could have been a veiled accusation. Ren heard nothing within it but curiosity.

"I am. My men number in the hundreds. We camp all along the Huai river, welcomed by the townsfolk we serve. That's a point of pride." Ren underscored it with a perfect shot. "Even so, I wonder what I've missed."

"By leaving school?"

A nod. "You've improved your marksmanship while continuing your studies. I can't say I've done similar."

"I'd say you've learned just as much."

"Perhaps." Ren notched an arrow and let fly, striking the target a finger's width from his last hit. "I've learned the limit to what I can handle myself, even with good men beneath me."

"How about with good men above you?"

Ren considered the question as Chun began another round. He had gone forth without a grand vision in mind, only a means of support and trust that his venture would work out. An optimism borne from the industry of his men, the solace of the land they guarded, and the certainty that this was his path to walk, wherever it might lead him.

"It depends on the man, and how well we see eye to eye. We may not agree on every detail, but we must stand on common ground."

"I'm sure you've heard of cousin Cao Cao."

"I've read his letters. I've not had an opportunity to meet him."

"I have. You should, too, when he's next in town. The two of you would get along." A glance off into the distance. "You're both making a name for yourself."

"And you're not?"

"I was pulled from university and sent to the imperial palace." Chun fired a direct and powerful shot. "I doubt the same favor would have been shown to a son of some other family."

"I say your ability speaks for itself."

"Cousin said as much, and I ought to believe him. He has an eye for talent and no patience for corrupt men. His first priority in Jinan was to get rid of the ones in his service."

Ren nodded, recalling that particular round of news. Cao had been promoted to chancellor and proceeded to lead with his strict decision of the battlefield, axing useless rules and rites along with incompetent officials. Chun rambled on about Cao's latest reforms in glowing detail, confirming the impressions Ren had picked up from his letters. Cao scorned outmoded sensibilities and let his results prove their own merit, and he reveled in grudging praise from those who had once derided him. He kept a constant eye out for opportunity, and a playful wit livened up the wisdom of his words. Ren imagined sitting down with him over a bowl of wine, and his heart sped up in anticipation of this next visit.

As evening approached, Chun made motion to leave. "I'll be meeting some friends in town to share poetry. You're welcome to join us."

"Much appreciated, but I'll pass."

Chun laughed. "I see some things never change."

* * *

Cao Ren packed a bag and retrieved Thunder Cloud from the stables. Once eager to break into a gallop across the open fields, the aging horse settled into a trot when allowed to take the lead. The leisurely pace suited them both. Ren had plans to ponder and associates to run them past, but his mind needed a rest beforehand.

They took their trail into hidden arbors dappled by sunlight and deep jade shadow. A creek led them further on, paved in broad white stones and bladed grass bent flat by the current. It flowed over an outcropping into a pool just as pure, where fish meandered among the rocks on the bottom far below. Ren stripped down and dove in, shuddering at the initial shock of the icy water. He floated on his back as the sun warmed his face and the chill eased off into refreshment. He unbound his hair, letting it fan out behind him in a thick plume.

Ren climbed out, dried off, dressed himself. He returned to the estate for a hot bath and a pot of tea served with it. Back in his chambers, an open scroll of silk lay on the bed. No glance at the stamp was needed. Such artful calligraphy served as its own signature.

The words were clear and measured, flowing with the cadence of footsteps along his woodland path, shimmering through the mist in Ren's eyes as his heart also swelled to the verge of bursting.

_He stands beside the river deep  
In verdant shade of forest keep  
As dawn breaks past the distant hills  
The boy looks down the road._

_He walks along the river deep  
In verdant shade of forest keep  
As noontide shines upon his path  
The boy finds his way forth._

_He rides along the river deep  
In verdant shade of forest keep  
As sunset gilds the distant hills  
A man makes his way home._

* * *

The training camp in rural Qiaocheng had grown from shelter by the wooded creek to a neat village of tents in the nearby meadow. Cao Ren smiled, having expected no less from its leader. He had sent a note about discussing future plans. The response was penned with laborious dignity. Its words were basic, its calligraphy square, itself an achievement from a friend who had once cursed over simple glyphs.

When Du Gai pounded him on the shoulder in greeting, Ren playfully thumped him with the scroll. "You could have just paid me a visit."

"I thought you'd be proud of me."

"I already am."

"Even though I haven't given you the grand tour?"

"I like what I've seen so far. I doubt the rest will change my mind."

"Pleasant surprises only - I promise."

"Then I'd better be surprised."

"Come on." Gai smirked. "When's the last time I said something like that and didn't deliver?"

Ren thought of the times when he had delivered well beyond expectation. "Point taken."

Gai led them past the usual groups taking their turns at weapon maintenance and sparring and archery practice. He paused by a circle of men sitting at makeshift desks with writing brushes in hand. They took down character after character dictated by a fellow checking their work with the same patience. Ren wondered who had taught the teacher so well, and the pleased light in Gai's eyes answered the question before he had a chance to ask.

Another circle was gathered around a man who had never found his stride in combat. Fei Gong demonstrated suturing on a leather model devised for instructional purposes. His right hand worked with nimble fluidity. His left was less able, straining to hold his makeshift wound shut.

Gai dropped his voice. "That injury of his never healed. But he's a genius when it comes to fixing up others. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he was a mystic."

"Or a Yellow Turban?"

"Laugh all you want, but I've had some men suspect that. One of them came up to me all white as the moon. I guess he'd never seen anyone get sewn up before."

Back in their days beside the river, Gai's clothing had mostly consisted of patches. He now wore modest robes with a pattern woven into the sash. His chin was held high, his former scruff shaved clean, his gaze full of that old fire that had dimmed under the guilt of leaving on excursion while his small brothers struggled with their farm chores in the meantime. Gai’s drills had become sluggish, his orders uninspired, his evenings spent looking back in the direction of home. Ren had once laid a hand on his shoulder and almost received a punch along with the insistence that nothing was wrong, he was just tired, who could get a decent night's sleep on this rocky ground anyhow?

After that trip, Ren had sent Gai back to Qiaocheng to find himself again. Which he did, training elite soldiers and otherwise moving forward in his own right.

"So." Gai spread his arms. "What do you think?"

"Can't say I'm surprised. You've always done well at standing in for me."

"What can I tell you? I learned from the best."

A flush touched Ren's face. "I learned from all of you."

"Even Teng?"

"He had his sensible moments."

"Like when he quit loafing around and went back to school?"

"Perhaps. But he did bring a few friends to us." One such friend was apprenticed to a master marksman. He had beaten Ren in an amicable competition, then shared some advice before moving on to a settlement.

“Yeah, you’re right. One of those guys really helped me with the writing.”

“I was going to ask about that. I didn’t think I was that good of a teacher.”

“You were fine, but let’s get to it.” Gai faced Ren. “I know you didn’t come out here just to shoot the shit.”

“Cousin Cao Cao is raising an army. The corruption we’re after is not a local problem. As he tells it, worse is happening in the capital.”

“How much worse?”

“Hard to put a measure on it. There’s political trouble, tension brewing - the sort that may launch an outright war. The fire’s been burning for a long while, and no one can tell when the pot will boil over. But they do say it will be soon.”

“So you want to gather us up and haul us out there?”

That would be ideal in some regards, less so in others. Ren’s troops knew how to keep order with their presence. No one had figured out how the same could be ensured in their absence.

“No.” Ren paused. “I’ll do the hauling myself. I'm leaving Qiaocheng to you.”

Gai waited for him to continue.

"I hate to lose your leadership, but I don’t have a choice. I just ask for a compromise between old blood and new. We’ll split your established force down the middle. You’ll gather me enough recruits to build my share into an army.”

"That's all?"

"If you say so. I'll need significant numbers."

"Still not a problem." Gai cracked his knuckles. "And you will be surprised this time around."

Ren grinned. "Then I'll try not to expect too much. I'd hate to ruin your fun."

Gai socked him, and they wandered off to enjoy the wine Ren had brought.

* * *

Cao Ren glanced over his militia’s records yet again as the clock continued to drip in his chamber corner. His hair and beard were oiled, his formal robes arranged to avoid creasing. His small folded cap was tied under his chin, still a discomfort though he had received it a month prior. Chun, who had taken the rites of manhood alongside him, insisted that Ren would be used to the cord if he stopped leaving his topknot bare whenever there were no guests around to impress.

Such a guest was en route, his judgment impending.

The letter had arrived early, Gai's recruits later than expected. Ren had waved off his friend’s apologies and thrown himself into training. The able troops had fallen in line. The worst were barely passable. Ren would have ordinarily banished them. Instead he resorted to harsher action when the usual castigation refused to sink in. Ren was running short on time to prepare for service, and this meeting had almost come too soon as well.

Chimes summoned Ren to the dining hall. He slowed his stride to suit the drape of his heavy skirts, going over a proper introduction along the way.

The afternoon sun slanted low and golden through the carved windows lining the far wall. Two places had been set across from each other. The food and condiments were laid out, the tea poured and steaming in its mugs. Neither servant nor visitor could be seen in the vast chamber.

"As summer's bloom meets autumn frost."

Ren glanced over his shoulder toward that commanding and resonant voice. He glimpsed an odd shadow in a distant corner of the room.

"So it seems our paths have crossed."

Cao Cao stepped forth. Momentarily stunned, Ren greeted him with an awkward bow.

"Cousin Zixiao." Cao returned the gesture with ease. "We meet at last."

* * *

They sat and ate. Cao Cao made no move to talk, and Ren wondered if that was another attempt to throw him off guard. He was the host, he owed hospitality, and he felt ever more impolite as conversational gambits continued to elude him. His guest showed no discomfort. Cao was a man of average height and ordinary build with strong features carved by maturity. Even as he relaxed over a meal, his expression radiated an intensity that further intimidated Ren's attempts to speak.

"Please forgive me. I have no words to follow up such a greeting."

"I hadn't expected you to."

"Fair enough, considering that I hadn't expected to be caught unaware in my own house."

Cao laughed. "Why waste a good surprise?"

A smile. "From what I've heard of you, I suppose it shouldn't have come as a shock."

"Then it seems we've been acquainted." Cao took a sip of tea. "Zihe has said much about you as well."

Ren awaited an elaboration. Cao's eyes settled on him with piercing certainty, sharp as the precise points of his mustache and beard.

"Your manners were boorish, your studies an inconvenience to be shirked off at first opportunity. You put much effort toward worming yourself out of punishment and very little toward behaving properly in the first place."

An icicle stabbed Ren in the gut. His face burned with fury at Chun's indiscretion, with shame over his immutable past. He thought of disclaiming himself with a comment on his travail to shed that unruly skin of his youth. Under such scrutiny, he could only manage assent.

"Every word of that is true."

They held their shared gaze as explanations continued to sit on the tip of Ren's tongue. Cao's eyes crinkled at the corners as his mouth curled up into a slow grin.

"A man after my own heart, I see."

Ren had no words as Cao helped himself to another serving of pickles.

"I had little use for such rot myself. Ah, the excuses I made and the floggings I bore." An amused snort. "I only developed an appreciation for poetry when no one was bludgeoning me with it."

Ren laughed. "You're far ahead of me in that regard."

"Don't concern yourself. I'm sure you'll get there as well."

They relaxed into commiseration, into wild and wayward tales bolstering Cao's mystique. He was said to be a master of rule and discipline, and his bearing reflected every letter of some strict and unspoken law. Yet his own youthful dalliances brought an embarrassed heat to Ren's face, tempered with the refreshing certainty that his much less colorful past was just as dead and buried.

Cao waved a dismissive hand. "Enough of that for now. Tell me about these troops of yours. How many will you be bringing into my service?"

"Five hundred all told."

"And all of your best leaders?"

"None of them."

Cao nearly dropped his chopsticks. He furrowed his brow as Ren savored a touch of satisfaction at cracking his composed shell.

"None of them?" Cao repeated.

"My subordinates need to remain where they currently are, doing what they've been trained to do best. Suppressing lawbreakers. Keeping the peace. Gathering other men to serve beneath them. If I were to take them with me, that whole structure would vanish."

"How are you certain it won't do the same without you in charge?"

"I gave my men the tools to lead. They rewarded me with dependability by putting such to good use." Ren thought of the Yellow Turbans, who had wreaked havoc on the Empire and then scattered into disorganized remnants after their top leaders passed away. "We are servants to a cause, not a cult of personality."

Cao drank more tea.

"Furthermore, this better prepares me for service. I once had the luxury of choosing my men. Now I'm shaping up the troops they've sent in their place. A supreme commander would need me to make do with my assignees. I saw no harm in starting early."

"Very good. I imagine you must be wearing out the bastinado on such a ragtag crew."

"Not quite." Ren handed over a scroll with the hierarchy of punishments he had developed, with the aforementioned bamboo cane reserved for the worst infractions. Cao gave it a brief glance and a slight nod of approval.

"There are times when nothing else will do. Still, I seek to lead by respect rather than fear."

"What's the difference?"

Ren began to flippantly respond that the answer ought to be obvious. He held back when Cao's expression showed that he was serious.

"Sometimes there is none. Proper behavior may very well be motivated by dread of the consequences for misconduct. Even so, there are noted distinctions." Ren took a long drink of tea, sorting out his next words. "Respect is earned. Fear is demanded. Respect is mutual. Fear is authoritative. I want my troops to take pride in their service, in their part of a force greater than any of us. Such spirit is cultivated within a man, not beaten into him from without."

"Sounds idealistic."

"Perhaps, but it's proved its worth in practice."

"To a point."

"A point I never expected to reach when I asked my friends to accompany me on patrol."

"But what will you do beyond that?"

"Whatever is necessary."

They faced each other in an unspoken test that Ren had to trust he was passing. His road had been marked with rigors, with signposts clear as their engraved memories. A slip of a farmer's son trembling as a noose of bandits tightened around him. The cold steel of his blade and the colder eyes it extinguished. A village rising up in the defense of criminals, and the carried weight of a dying mercenary who had riled it to arms. Each faced, each surmounted, each with more obligations to follow - though some were lesser evils for the sake of a greater good.

"Easier said than done, especially from your perspective. You may have seen combat. You have not seen war."

Ren nodded in reverence of the scope and grandeur glimpsed through letters and essays and distant memories of Father's cavalry. There was fulfillment in military leadership, a sense of ultimate purpose Ren had never received from his best schoolwork. Neat camps, crisp uniforms, honed weapons. Flawless drills from a squad that had once muddled through the basics. The rush of a front line charge, the pride swelling in his chest as his men raised their voices in a rousing cheer. The grave confidence of persevering, of enduring, of hardening oneself against the toll of bloodshed. Of confronting the beast to wrest victory from its great and gnashing jaws.

"Even so, I have no doubts in your preparation. This venture of yours is remarkable. It was begun in secret, yet borne of duty. Beholden to no authority, yet carried forth with strict order. And with you at its forefront, locking horns with each obstacle that reared its head in your path. Like an ox, some might say, wresting his plow through the rock and the mire as the chill rains of spring lash down upon him."

Ren flushed, knowing the exact source of that analogy. Chun once claimed that he was all bulk and no brains, only spurred out of apathy by a hearty meal and the sting of a switch. The flip side of this former insult showed just how brother had spoken of him - far more meaningful than mentions of past trivia.

Cao glanced at the scrolls Ren had set on the table nearby. "Are these your records?"

A nod.

"I have no need to review them."

Cao stood, folding his hands together. Ren arose with the same gesture.

"Cousin."

Ren's heart quickened.

"I am honored to invite you into my service."

"I am equally honored to accept."

"Good." Cao gave an imperative nod. "Then we march in three days' time."

Another challenge boldly met. "Why not tomorrow?"

Cao smiled. "If you insist."


	7. Commencing

The night air had stilled its restless breeze to weigh thick and humid within the house. Lightning flashed dim over the eastern hills, followed by the distant rumbles of thunder. Cao Chun paced the perimeter of his study, stoking the braziers with fresh heaps of fragrant kindling. Wood into fire, divine heat against the damp of the coming storm.

There had been portents, low ripples of dissonance through the rhythms of imperial business. They were handwaved and buried beneath the usual stiff pleasantries, dismissed as empty gossip for equally vacuous minds. Then the facade had burst open as those bruised and swollen clouds would soon break over the horizon. The emperor dead, and a child placed upon his throne. Fierce troops of Liang running rampant over the capital. Their bulwark of a leader, a wanton brute named Dong Zhuo, with a brandished sword in one hand and the puppet strings of the Empire in the other. Luoyang in flames, in plunder and ruin, and the courts packed far off west to the mountainous sanctuary of Chang'an. Several days' journey with little respite for meals or sleep or other forms of relief, and without much succor to be had at its end.

Chun had taken shelter in the ignorance of propriety, in knowing his place and staying well within its boundaries. He was compliant, circumspect, a cog in the great machine engineered to uphold the glory of the Han for a thousand years to come. The machine now lay in pieces, shattered by a tyrant's fury, and a patchwork alliance of military men had stitched itself together from all corners of the land to restore it.

Among those men was Cao Cao. In Cao's service, brother Ren.

Chun wondered if he ought to have followed them. The cap of adulthood had awarded him the full honors of Father's military title and a barrage of training to bring him up to its standards. He was a colonel now, a leader of elite cavalry with nowhere to ride. Only a constant routine of drills and formality, patrols carried out with a solemn gaze to the east. They were sworn to defend the capital, wherever it might reside, but their hearts remained with the wreckage of Luoyang. Perhaps their true duty would be to seize it back.

Perhaps not. The capital was here in Chang'an, and thus would Chun also remain. He was a man of the book, just as brother had bound himself to the blade, and each was ordained to complement the other. The Han had not been destroyed. It was merely displaced. Its seeds would take root where they fell, nourished and tended by the devotion of its ministers. One hand to reclaim, the other to rebuild, and the Empire would spread its glorious wings once again.

Chun lit a censer and brought it into the courtyard. He settled to his knees, closed his eyes, bowed his head. He remained there in perfect quiescence as the wind swirled high to rustle his silks, as the first drops of rain touched the finely paved flagstone, as the sky opened to receive his offering.

_May the sword reap the blight and the wither.  
May the flame raze the remnants to earth.  
May the storm deluge the dry ashes.  
May the green of spring rise forth._

* * *

Twice Cao Ren had refused the offered flask of wine. At last he resigned himself to accept it, receiving a slap on the back that nearly had him choking on the first mouthful.

Xiahou Yuan flashed a wide grin, taking a swig of his own before lounging back beside the fire. "About time you decided to relax."

"I've been trying to do so since I arrived."

"Yeah, and don't we all know it. Nice to see some improvement."

Ren smiled wryly. "I suppose, if that's how you insist on putting it."

Cousin Yuan had marched with Cao Cao since unrest began to roil the capital. He was broad of frame and brash of demeanor, with a full beard and a spirited gaze beneath thick winged brows. Yuan poked his head into any business that struck his fancy, and he had taken on Ren as a personal project. Initially put off by such outgoing candor, Ren had grown to appreciate the company. Yuan prided himself on finding common ground, even if it was more akin to flattening a spot in the meadow by tripping over his own lack of decorum. His drills were energetic, his jibes good-natured, his casual words laced with wit. Ren could think of far worse veterans to serve as a mentor.

Cao Hong swaggered over to join them. "Well, I'll be damned. Look who finally pulled that halberd out of his crack. How many oxen did it take?"

Ren gave a nod at Yuan. "Just that one."

Ren and Hong had never been close. Their boyhood friendship was borne more of proximity than affinity, a workable alternative to solitary boredom and less desirable options for company. They had fallen out of touch without seeking to regain it, and Hong's appearance at camp had come as a shock. _I got myself an appointment. Worked some family connections. You should have done that yourself instead of pissing around with a bunch of peasants._

Ren had regarded Hong skeptically, annoyed at his apparent disdain for the value of practical experience. A quick hand up to the top taught nothing of the shared rigors which forged bonds between leader and men, nor the means of earning respect without first being entitled to it. Yet Hong's practices were compliant enough, and Ren began to admit that his authority might have a foundation beyond dealmaking.

They passed the wine, looking over the vast allied encampment spread over the plain below. Long rows of tents shone in the moonlight, punctuated by a sparse constellation of campfires. Banners waved tall and splendid in the gentle breeze. More armies were arriving, with horsemen in legion and great grids of infantry. Full fleets of men, proverbial ships in the night, and Cao Cao's settlement was a rowboat in comparison.

Ren surveyed the forces before him, wondering what small percentage was comprised by their own. "Surprising, is it not? I expected us to be more numerous."

"Why's that?" Yuan asked.

"Our lord has the presence of a much greater leader." Cao came across as a man with ten thousand on each arm, a multitude more at his front, and a signal to drop them all to their knees in unison. Ren had expected to be a brick in a wall rather than the cornerstone of a foundation. He would be key to this new army from its outset, a prospect equally exhilarating and terrifying.

"Oh, he's great, all right. He's just getting started is all." Yuan jerked a nod across the campfire. "But I get what you're saying. He talks a good game, just like our cousin over there."

Hong shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that as long as you're more than just talk."

Ren caught a flicker of the one memory Hong refused to brag about. Months prior, Cao had suffered a crushing defeat. His forces had been routed, the enemy hot on his tail. When Cao's horse fell, Hong handed over his own to flee on foot behind him. Ren had heard the story secondhand, a camp legend of surprising authenticity, and Hong gave a humble bow of the head when he went to offer his esteem. _I just did my duty, just like anybody else._

"Speaking of which." Yuan cast his gaze to a group of women performing the flute and zither in a nearby clearing. Their sleeves were flowing, their curves lushly accentuated, their necklines open to a brazen depth. "How many of those ladies did you say you had at once?"

Hong gave a self-satisfied smirk. "Two."

"Amateur." Yuan favored Ren with a nudge. "Bet you can do better in your sleep."

"I'd rather decline."

“A prude, huh? Saving it for the woman at home?”

“You might say that.” The courtesans were young and fine-featured, clad in colorful silks. Yet they called to mind the worn face of Gai's mother and the eyes of small children without claim to their fathers' birthright. Those eyes would weigh upon him, overwhelming any brief pleasure to be bought amidst the strain of impending war.

"You'll loosen up. Just wait till your hand gets tiresome."

Hong chimed in. "And the other one can't fool you forever."

Ren stood up, turning toward his tent. "It seems I'm overdue to take my leave."

"You and that fancy talk." Yuan shook his head, ticking his tongue in disapproval. "Guess we'll put that on the list as well."

A snort. "Thanks for the concern, cousin."

"Don't sweat it."

* * *

The strident call of the war horn roused Cao Ren from slumber. He took a moment to kneel on his bedroll, trusting that his simple thoughts would suffice for a prayer not covered by tradition. The allied forces spreading out and striking forth, all clashing swords and flying arrows and thunderous waves of cavalry. A decisive conflict, a swift victory. A crippling blow into onward momentum to crush the awaiting behemoth.

Breakfast was taken by torchlight in the dim and distant dawn. Cao Hong tossed out a dig or two, but no one saw fit to bite back. Even Xiahou Yuan, who took a certain pride in winning such altercations, only responded with a sidelong glare. A solemnity lay over their settlement, tangible as the cool mists of daybreak. Its presence was akin to some unspoken rite, left whole to be dispelled with the rising sun and the mounting activity of camp springing to life around them.

Ren had worn his armor in practice, accustoming himself to the heft of its bronze scales and padded skirts, but the dressing process had previously focused on efficiency. The bearer now assisted him with ceremonial care, bowing to the floor to present the plumed helmet. Ren was an official now - a major with separate command - and this new honor burned bright within him as the helmet was secured over the leather hood protecting his topknot.

His troops awaited at the staging grounds, upright as the flags held vertical at each corner of their array. Yuan's soldiers were also organized, though looking around with restless anticipation. Hong's randomly milled about, and some stragglers trickled in with a yawn. Ren hid his disapproval, having cured his men of such carelessness early on. He had sought their dedication, not curried their friendship, and it was clear in their gaze as he walked his warhorse before them. They were all forged in the same crucible, tempered into a single blade. Recruits into soldiers, a fledgling leader into a young professional. Ren caught a distant glimpse of some other army, chariots flanked by vast formations of infantry. He dared to see the beginnings of its grandeur in his own.

The drums began to pound. Cao Cao's forces, several thousand strong, snapped to strict attention. Ren drew himself up on his mount, addressing his troops in a deep and booming voice. They rewarded each line with a rousing cheer.

"Today we smash the grip of tyranny!"

"Today we revive the order of Heaven!"

"We ride forth as one! The usurpers will fall! The Empire will rise once again!"

One, two, three coordinated upthrusts of weaponry in response. "Hai! Hai! Hai!"

Ren turned, eliciting a whinny with a light snap of the reins, and led his men onward into the burgeoning day.

* * *

The allied coalition defeated Dong Zhuo in the following spring. He retreated to Chang'an, and was betrayed and killed by his sworn son Lu Bu.

Cao Ren continued to serve Cao Cao for over thirty years with consistent success in a variety of campaigns, distinguishing himself against talented rivals. He defeated Liu Bei during the battle of Guan Du, held off Zhou Yu for over a year while isolated at the city of Jiangling, and defended the flooded stronghold of Fan from Guan Yu for three months at a severe disadvantage of manpower. During the siege of Jiangling, Ren led two cavalry charges into enemy hordes - first to rescue a minor subordinate, then to round up the rest of his troops. At his death in 223, he held command over the three southern provinces of Wei and the title of Grand Marshal - the highest honor in his kingdom’s army.

Cao Chun joined Cao Cao as an adviser, then went on to lead elite cavalry to victory in several campaigns. He died in 210.


End file.
